Tag: Flash Fiction

Blog, Flash Fiction

The Office – Flash Fiction

by  •  • 39 Comments

The Office

Weary from walking she looked at her watch noting the time was 10:25 PM.  She remembered leaving a little after 9 o’clock.  Exhausted and aching she murmured to herself ‘sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy’. She began to cry.

It had been a pleasant day.  She had accomplished a lot, feeling a ‘good tired’, as she liked to say.  Dinner was prepared, the table was set as usual.  She waited for her husband to come home.

He wasn’t usually late without calling.  By 8:00 dinner was beginning to look sad.

He worked nearby so she slipped out the house and started walking to his business.  

She entered the building making her way to his office.  Opening the door she found him at his desk with his assistant on her knees in front of him.  She was not picking up paperclips.

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved


Linda from Charmed Chaos is hosting D'Verse Poets
tonight and had prompted us with Prosery which is to
include this line from Spring Azures from the book Wild Geese by Mary Oliver:

‘Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy,’

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay 

Blog, Flash Fiction

At Last – A Dreamer’s Story – Flash Fiction

by  •  • 22 Comments

At Last – A Dreamer’s Story

It was finally here and the magnitude of the moment had not been lost on me.  Yes, I was nervous.  Who wouldn’t be?  It was not every day a woman like me, who had come from such humble beginnings, would now be standing here in these hallowed halls.

As I waited, a strange feeling came over me as if someone else was inhabiting my body.  A weight had been lifted off my shoulders and I felt liberated and strong.  The pit in my stomach magically disappeared and I felt the adrenaline rush of confidence. 

I was meant to be here.  It felt familiar and I knew somehow, inexplicably, that I had stood here in this same spot before.  At this moment, reading what I have just written, I now believe my signature on this document gives me the freedom I have longed for.

Copyright © 2020 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Lillian is hosting Prosery Monday at D’Verse Poets and has prompted us with a line from Louise Gluck’s Faithful and Virtuous Night – reading what I have just written, I now believe. Prosery challenge is to write no more than 144 words, excluding the title, and use this line from the selected poem.

Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA). In the US “Dreamer” describes a person who has lived in the US without official authorization since coming to the country as a minor. People of this description who met certain conditions would be eligible for a special immigration status under federal legislation first proposed in 2001. This is a controversial and politically charged subject and Trump has tried to reverse the Dream Act as part of his anti immigration agenda. However, late last Friday afternoon, a federal district judge ordered the Trump administration to fully reinstate the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, which allows nearly 700,000 undocumented immigrants who came to the United States as children to live and work there. Courtesy of Vox

Photo courtesy of USA Today

Blog, Flash Fiction

Cry of the Wolf – Flash Fiction – Prosery

by  •  • 39 Comments

Cry of the Wolf

In the still of a moonlit night he lay snug inside his sleeping bag.  His mind wandering back to what had made him to come to this place. Was it to be at one with nature, or just an escape from the madness of the city.  He had felt compelled to return to his favorite place in the forests of northern Michigan.

Here he could breathe and think clearly.  He remembered camping here as a boy with his father who had told him this was a spiritual place.  He didn’t quite understand what that meant but he knew enough to respect the land and the wildlife.

It was at that moment that he heard the wolves cry out.   He remembered the sound and what his father had said.

“Don’t be scared son.  In their dreams they sleep with the moon, not outside our tent”.

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

Merril is hosting Prosery Monday at D’Verse Poets and has prompted us with a line from a poem. We are to write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 144 words, excluding the title, and it must include the line below.

“In their dreams
they sleep with the moon.”

From Mary Oliver, “Death at Wind River”

Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay 
Blog, Flash Fiction

A Waste of Time – Prosery

by  •  • 32 Comments

A Waste of Time

We spent a lifetime not even knowing each other.  Spinning our wheels with failed marriages and empty relationships.  Coming from different parts of the world we inexplicably ended up in the same city.  Moving in the same orbit but not connecting until that one special night when we finally met.  I was cynical and you were the perfect gentleman.   We had so much in common and talked into the wee hours sharing stories of world travel.  

We lived the dream until the health scare came.  The focus was no longer on us, but “it”.  It consumed you.  Even when you were made safe and fully recovered, it lived with us.  Haunting me like a mistress.  Now instead of love we are at war with each other.

When it is over said and done, it was a time, and there was never enough of it.

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

Merril is hosting Monday Prosery at D’Verse Poets and has prompted us with a line from Allison Adelle Hedge Coke’s poem, “A Time”. When it is over said and done, it was a time, and there was never enough of it. We are to write a piece of flash fiction (Prosery) including the prompt line. Prosery is exactly 144 words excluding the title

Blog, Flash Fiction

Out of Gas – Flash Fiction/Prosery

by  •  • 32 Comments

Out of Gas

It was already dark as he closed the car door, thankful for the red moon to light his way down the road.  How stupid to run out of gas, tonight of all nights.  Angry with himself for not checking.

This was unfamiliar territory but he knew the road followed the river for miles.  Coming to a crossroads he stopped momentarily. He felt a chill in the air and heard a moan like an autumn wind high in the
lonesome treetops.  The strange noise made him shiver. He was cold, having forgotten to bring a jacket, and the hair on the back of his neck was standing to attention. He moved on.

Feeling a presence, he halted turning quickly, but no one was there.  Looking around cautiously he resumed his walk. It was then he felt the blow to his head and everything went black.

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

Lillian is hosting D’Verse Poets Pub tonigh
and the challenge is Prosery (not poetry)
A short story of exactly 144 words excluding
the title and we are to use one of the
following lines from Carl Sandburg’s
poem Jazz Fantasia

"Moan like an autumn wind high in the
lonesome treetops" OR choose 2) "a red
moon rides on the humps of the low
river hills". 

Promote Yourself Monday - Go Dog Go Cafe

Image by Robbowolf from Pixabay 

Blog, Flash Fiction

Union Meeting – Flash Fiction

by  •  • 16 Comments

Union Meeting

The hall was crowded and David eased his way towards the stage.  Squeezing through the throng and ducking under the inevitable signs, he found the spot where his view was unobstructed.

He checked his watch noting it was seven fifty, and then patted his left chest pocket for reassurance. He could hear his heart pounding and he began to sweat.

His fellow directors had chosen to boycott the meeting but there was no way he was going to miss it.  

On cue the President of the Autoworkers Union was introduced by the speaker on stage.  He entered to resounding cheers and applause from the members.  Watching carefully David noted no one left and no one came on the bare platform to join the two men.  This was his chance.  Amidst the noise, he pulled the gun from his jacket and fired the deadly shot.






Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©





Sarah is hosting D’Verse Poets tonight and the theme is Prosery.  A piece of flash fiction of 144 words or less.  She has asked us to use the following line from the poem Adelstrop by Edward Thomas – No one left and no one came on the bare platform.





Words Prompts





Impeccable – RDP





Boycott – FOWC





Image by Nicajo from Pixabay 

	    

	    	

	    	
	
	

	    	

				
Blog, Flash Fiction

		
		
Evanescent – Flash Fiction

		

			by  •  • 29 Comments		

	


	    

		    






Evanescent





Theirs was a short, passionate history going back years.  They had been close. So close they could read each other’s minds.  They would often finish each other’s sentences as if they were one and the same person.  Kindred spirits who ran feely with not a care in the world.





Their bond was deep but it was evanescent. It seemed to us that as quickly as it had blossomed, it was over





They say there are moments caught between heartbeats where love lies dormant, sometimes for a lifetime.  All it takes is for that one special soul to find their way in into the layers of our mind and ignite that fiery passion.  





This is how it was for them.  The spark was kindled but they took no care of their fire.  The embers were left dying in the dirt until it burned no more.





Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©






Kim of Writing in North Norfolk is hosting Prosery
at D'Verse Poets tonight and has asked us to write
a flash fiction piece that includes these words from
a Louis MacNeice poem called 'Coda"
‘There are moments caught between heart-beats’.
Prosery requirement is exactly 144 words excluding the title.

Image by Alejandro Tuzzi from Pixabay 
 
Word Prompts
Evanescent - RDP
History - FOWC

	    

	    	

	    	
	
	

	    	

				
Blog, Flash Fiction

		
		
One Moonlit Night – Flash Fiction

		

			by  •  • 34 Comments		

	


	    

		    






One Moonlit Night





You were young and beautiful, a breath of fresh air, and we all watched you with our jaws on the sidewalk.





Anything was possible for someone like you. So perfect you could hang the moon and the stars.  I was completely smitten and let you wrap me around your little finger.  I would have done anything for you.    





One evening you agreed to take a walk with me along the bank of the river.  That night I shared my true feelings with you, telling you how beautiful you were, and that your eyes twinkled like the stars in the sky.  You laughed in my face.  Your words cutting me like a knife.





In anger I placed my hands around your throat and squeezed until you laughed no more.





That night I dreamt I was the moon and you were the one who hanged me..





Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©





Sarah is hosting D’Verse Poets tonight and she has prompted us with a flash fiction piece of 144 words exactly, using the words I dreamt I was the moon from the poem Full Moon by Alice Oswald.

	    

	    	

	    	
	
	

	    	

				
Blog, Flash Fiction

		
		
Iced Latte – What Pegman Saw

		

			by  •  • 29 Comments		

	


	    

		    






Iced Latte





It was 2:45 PM and he was early.  He took a tall iced latte and sat away from the door.  Sitting carefully, he straightened the legs of his freshly cleaned khaki pants.





Flipping through his phone he looked again at her photo.  Pretty, outdoorsy and her profile said she owned her own company.





Looking down again at his pants, he reflected on how many khakis he owned.  Six or seven pairs at least.  It was part of his ‘uniform’.  Each internet date he went on, he dressed the same and always ordered an iced latte. If the date quickly went south, he would cleverly spill the coffee in his lap and make an excuse to leave.





Lost in his thoughts he didn’t see her arrive. She introduced herself and he said “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”  She replied, “Yes I own the dry cleaners on the corner”





Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©





150 words





In response to What Pegman Saw Photo Prompt – Portland, Oregon

	    

	    	

	    	
	
	

	    	

				
Blog, Flash Fiction

		
		
Vision in Blue – Flash Fiction

		

			by  •  • 5 Comments		

	


	    

		    






Vision in Blue





He couldn’t believe his eyes.  It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. He was in the middle of a forest and the floor was covered in beautiful flowers. There were deer gamboling through the trees and he could hear music.





Walking slowly towards him was a beautiful girl.  Barefoot and draped in a blue dress, a vision of loveliness. Beautiful flowers were in her hair, a stag at her side and she was playing a wooden flute or whistle. He was mesmerized by the sight and sounds. 





As she came closer he stood motionless in a stupor, hypnotized by the scene.





He said to himself in a whisper, ‘Man, these drugs are good.’










Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©





116 Words





In response to Fandango’s Flash Fiction Photo Challenge

	    

	    	

	    	
	

	


	
 

 





		
		
					

			
			
			








	
	
%d bloggers like this: