Tag Archives: #flashfiction

Tree of Life

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Tree of Life

Limbs dark and cold thaw in the spring air, lifeblood stored in my subterranean network pushes towards the sky; so sweet and abundant that I can spare a drop or two for you.

In the new warmth, tiny buds form and push outward, filling the canopy and blotting out the sun from the path below.

Branches teaming with life, caterpillars feed on the leaves that breathe in carbon and exhale oxygen; beetles and weevils prefer the dark spaces hidden beneath my bark; robins, woodpeckers and jays nest and rest and feast and hide within my cover; and squirrels burrow in the hollow recesses of my long dead core.

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Unfulfilled Promises

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Unfulfilled Promises

If there was one thing Violet was certain of it was that Ernest C. Stottlemeyer, or Ernie for short, was a procrastinator. She loved the man but things needed to change.

Vi waited in the dark as Ernie returned from the Brunswick and dropped his bowling ball at the door.

“Put the damned ball away,” she said startling him. “Starting tomorrow,” she paused while reaching to electrify the lamp. The light illuminating the ‘Unabridged Lexicon of Unfulfilled Promises’ she cradled in her arms, “Starting tomorrow Ernie…”

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Forgotten (Revisited)

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Republished for Fandango’s Flashback Friday. Being relatively new to blogging this was the closest I could find to an April 15th post. Although I had published the odd thing from as early as 2013, Forgotten, which first posted on April 5th, 2020, was my first attempt at fiction, the first blog prompt I’d ever participated in and really was the first entry of the current incarnation of Greg’s Blog. I posted to Sonya’s #threelinetales many times before the last challenge posted on December 30, 2021. Hope you enjoy one of my early posts.

Forgotten

Day by day, she numbs her loneliness in the reflections of a lifeless computer screen.

In a far corner, I sit silent, alone and forgotten.

Oh, how I long to feel her soft hands pulling at my (heart) strings, filling the room around us with her beautiful song.

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The Edge of Space-Time

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The Edge of Space-Time

Jaycee rode the crest of the space-time ripple racing outward across the farthest edges of the universe. Xe could recall every moment of the almost 14 billion year journey starting from the blinding light at the instant xe broke free from xyr father’s grip. Racing ever outward on the expanding wave until all the stars left in xyrs wake had all but faded from view.

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Rotary Dial

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Rotary Dial

Kalee looks at the pink box sitting on Grandma’s end table. The battery from her iPhone 15¾ had died and she’d left the supercharger at home.  She need to call Zack and leave him a message but all she could do was stand there staring in confusion at the antique. Finally, she pick up the handset, although she called it the pink thingy connected to the swirly wire, and listened to the buzzing sound. She started calling numbers into the transmitter but the buzz continued. Next she began to push down on the number through the holes on the rotary dial. When that didn’t work she tried pushing harder in frustration. Still nothing…

It’s amazing these people survived, she thought as she stood in line waiting to pay for her new $87.45 charging adapter and cable.

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Family Business

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Family Business

The CEO droned on about recovery, new products and the future but there wasn’t enough money left in the kitty to make any of that happen.

Martin the youngest and brightest of the four brothers sat quietly, half taking in what was being said, half watching what was happening beyond the windows of the top floor headquarters. His blood boiling with every word that the imbecile his older brothers had hired spit out and hurled the length of the table his brothers and the other board members encircled.

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The Lonely Goatherd

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The Lonely Goatherd

While standing amongst his flock high on the mountainside, the sweetest sound did fill his ears.

“Yodelayhee, Yodelayhee, Yodelayheehoo!” The hair on the lonely goatherd’s arms standing at attention, his heart skipping a beat.

He began pushing his herd down the mountain and across the valley. He needed to know the angel calling from the other side.

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What the Duck!

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What the Duck!

Bobby sat at the riverbank looking at her phone when she grabbed a nearby duckling and popped it between two slices of bread.

Angelina watched in horror as Bobby started to bite down on the quacking sandwich. “What’re you doing!?!?”

To the duckling’s relief, she pull the sandwich out and said, “Research for Carrot Ranch’s writing challenge.”

Angelina shot her a confused look…

See it says, “Write a story explaining why you ate baby ducks for lunch.”

“Ummm, no Bobby, it says ‘…explain baby ducks ate my lunch.’ You really need new strategies to keep your dyslexia in check!”

Disclaimer: No ducks or ducklings were harmed during the writing of this ridiculous piece of fiction.

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Strongman Blues

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This work of fiction has been crafted as a weekly roundup to Fandango’s One Word Challenges (#FOWC) posted over the last seven days.
Content Warning: Contains implied violence, sexually explicit themes and course language.

Strongman Blues

Johnny Fingers’ leg twitched as he sat on the edge of the couch,  listening to the instructions being relayed. Always with the… Hey JF, collect the payola. Hey Johnny, deliver the product. Hey Fingers, squeeze this guy / whack that guy / dispose of the body, or whatever other trivial shit he could come up with. It was always an imposition but when the boss gave an order you did not ask questions.

His pulse quickened and the knot tighten in his gut as he texted Trinity, his side piece was going to go off her rocker when he canceled. He’d promised her a day at the beach with no interruptions. Man, the girl was stacked and looked delectable in a bikini, but she was h-i-g-h maintenance. Johnny expected to be henpecked worse than his own wife could ever muster.

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Final Moments

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This story is loosely based on real-life events in a neighbourhood in my native Toronto. Names, ages and details have been altered but the story of loss is the same. My heart goes out to the family who lives this horror every day.

Note: Please be aware of the graphic nature of the content presented.

She stood graveside, wrapped in her husband’s arms, nothing but the rhythm of the falling rain to hide the painful beat of a broken heart and the stream of tears running down her face. Today marked their 7th birthday, Amir and Sunil, her precious twins cut down as they played peacefully in their own driveway.

Nine months had passed since a sixteen-year-old demon raced through the neighbourhood in Daddy’s Mercedez Benz; completely unaware of the precious lives surrounding him as he caught the curb at three times the limit, vaulting the steel monstrosity he commanded it into the afternoon air.

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