Tag Archives: #flashfiction

A Miners Lament

A Miners Lament

Weeks working long hours in the remote oil sands had taken their toll but today the company-sponsored busses rolled into the Saloon of this makeshift northern town.

The jamboree would run non-stop for the next five days, it was time to cut loose. The booze would flow and the comfort girls, drawn to payday money, would be primed and ready for the carousing to begin.

Billy hated himself watching the stranger, her curves rocking in his lap. Back east, his Annie was waiting for his return.

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The Biology of Things

The Biology of Things

My attention had shifted to Helena, hijacked by the pheromones (or perfume) wafting on the air currents in the auditorium.

Professor Carmichael was droning on about Lepidoptera and the infinite mutations that made something as simple as a Madagascan Sunset moth possible.

My attentions were more carnal. Although genetics were not top of mind, all that mattered were the variations that made such a beautiful creature possible.

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Breaking Free

Breaking Free

“What a year!” Emma hadn’t been this happy since her teens.

Yes, she’d raised two wonderful children that she wouldn’t trade for anything. Still, an ache inside, she didn’t belong here. Her spirit longed to escape its cage and soar.

Finding Celine had set her free.

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No Sanctuary

Kneeling in the front pew,
alone, paralyzed.
I want to run.
He’ll return,
in mitre and full vestments.
The crack of the staff,
Rings through the sanctuary.
Ashamed, I will obey.

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Red Mist

Red Mist

Terryl felt ill, a gnawing in his stomach that had started in the hours following his return from Orion Prime’s surface.

The mission was uneventful, a ride through the red tide mist to the Orion-Beta mine site where the landing party deployed new communications boosters and completed routine software updates on the mining bots.  

No one else from the team was reporting anomalies but several days later Terryl sat in sickbay awaiting his fourth assessment; his previous scans had come back normal, but he was certain something was eating away at his insides.

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Paradise Lost

Paradise Lost

Andi survived alone, hidden from the Chinese military patrols. America’s interest in democracy had waned three generations earlier, inevitably falling to the Communist regime in the anarchy that ensued. Her only escape was imagining the picturesque herds of wild buffalo, tall grasses and the endless blue mid-west sky she’d read about in forbidden books.  

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Blood Sacrifice

Blood Sacrifice

Beaver Springs was vernacular in every sense. Every detail focused on making the homes of this community intuitively functional, yet unmemorable. An architectural achievement rarely seen in cookie-cutter neighbourhoods.

Despite its utilitarian appeal, there was something deeper, sinister at play. The residents congregated at nightfall, like lions, tense as they waited. Their prey, almost always a woman, plucked from the dirty forgotten streets across town.

When she was too weak to fight back, the sun fixing to rise in the east, they would share in a communion of blood sacrifice.

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The Cipher

The Cipher

A Month had passed since intercepting a message. Most believed it was intercepted from a Chinese-Russian military satellite, our enemy in a war the Allies were losing, but I believed it had come from someone or something else. Everyone knew cracking the code, completely indiscernible to the best and brightest working around the clock, was key to our victory.

As I sat staring at the letters, numbers, and symbols, my eyes bugging out of my head, they began to lift from the page and realign before my eyes. I had done it, I’d found the key to deciphering the entire transmission. The message read,

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Been a Long Time…

Been a Long Time…

A hypothetical conversation between old Rockers in rockers; a typical day at the Association of Retired Rock and Rollers (ARRR) Seniors’ Center.

“The business has changed so much” Plant lamented. “Back in the day, we needed to record start to finish.”

“Could you imagine all the spliced tape if we recorded like they do today?” Jimmy shot back laughing.

“I know, we laid down tracks and layered them on top of each other. The new artist builds loops and mixes it all together in segments on a computer.” John Paul continued, “Shit for some tracks I could pound out six notes on my bass and be done. Let the mixer do the rest.”

“The nuance of a song is lost because every drum beat, every riff, every hook, and every chorus is recorded once and used again and again, reuseable and replaceable across multiple tracks on the same record. Identical in every way. The human element is lost.” Page postulated. “Not to mention the shit that stolen, I mean sampled from other people’s works.”

“What’s worse, auto-tune makes any pretty-faced Frankenstein sound like Fitzgerald. Imagine how pitch-perfect I could have sounded on Stairway. 🎶And she’s buying a…” Plant finished by singing the final line badly out of tune.

“You know what I miss the most, besides John smashing away on drums, jamming together in the studio. Now we can record the parts in our basement studios and email it in. I guess there is one positive though, I never have to see any of your ugly faces!”

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Tea Time Secrets

Tea Time Secrets

“This cake is exceptional.” Ana gushed while taking another bite. “The citrus balances perfectly with the blueberries and rich creamy icing. How do you get it to shine through the sweetness?”

“A tablespoon of lemon zest.” I replied sipping my tea.

I must admit I do love me some lemon blueberry anything. What could go any better with a cup of Murchie’s Afternoon blend (formerly the Empress blend served exclusively during tea time at the iconic Empress Hotel in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada.) The recipe for the absolutely delicious Blueberry Lemon Cake pictured in this post can be found on The Preppy Kitchen blog.

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