Flash Fiction A-Z: U is for…

This is a series of very short stories, under 100 words, that include the chosen word.  Feel free to add your own in the comments below.


U is for… Umbrella

Clouds took the sun hostage and turned a threatening shade of grey within a matter of minutes.  Intent on getting away from everything and everyone, we hadn’t checked the forecast.

Ben held my hand and we hurried through the grounds of the country estate—where we shouldn’t really have been.  When the rain began to fall, he whipped off his coat and held it over us like a makeshift umbrella.

A stone pergola-like structure came into view up ahead, so we picked up pace and aimed for the dry—the perfect refuge to hide our forbidden love.

(97 Words)

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Flash Fiction A-Z: T is for…

This is a series of very short stories, under 100 words, that include the chosen word.  Feel free to add your own in the comments below.


T is for… Train

Martyn waited at the back of class until I got there.  “Would you like a ride home?”

His question took me by surprise.  “That’s out of your way.”

“Not that far.”

I couldn’t put him out.  “Let’s compromise.  You can drop me at the train station.”

We walked to his car in silence.  We’d already said more than we had since breaking up last month, what else could we say?

Almost at the station, he asked, “are you sure I can’t take you home?”

“Why now?”

Pulling over, he shrugged.  “Because I made a mistake.  I want you back.”

(99 Words)

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Yellow

Richard M. Ankers has posted a great picture of the sky I wrote about recently.  I thought it would be great to share this here.

Looking around Richard’s site, I have discovered some great resources for writers, and an inspirational story of a man truly passionate about writing—I’m so glad I clicked ‘visit’ when I saw this picture!  Go and take a look…

Richard M. Ankers - Author


Author’s note: For a few hours, the UK was bathed in the strangest yellow light. I tried my best to capture it, but it changed by the second. Amazing really.

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Flash Fiction A-Z: S is for…

This is a series of very short stories, under 100 words, that include the chosen word.  Feel free to add your own in the comments below.


S is for… Stranger

Sally sat on the park bench and watched a group of youths playing football.  The trees above her almost sheltered her from the sun’s rays, but splatters of bright light danced on the ground in time with leaves that swayed in the breeze.

A stranger approached.  “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

She looked up at him and shook her head, she had no claim over the seat.

He sat, turning towards her.  “Can I give you my number?”

“Erm… why?”

“Sorry, that was very forward of me.”

She chuckled and grabbed her phone.  “Go on then.”

(99 words)

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Flash Fiction A-Z: R is for…

This is a series of very short stories, under 100 words, that include the chosen word.  Feel free to add your own in the comments below.


R is for… Restaurant

A piercing scream brings everyone to their feet.

The boy, no more than six, stands on a chair in the middle of the restaurant.  “It’s a spider.”

“Shhh…”  The child’s mother tugs his hand.  “Get down.  It’s only tiny, far more afraid of you.”

Many people return to their meals, but others look around with a hint of fear matching the child’s.

The spider runs across the restaurant, stopping beside a table where two lovers are on a date.  The woman drops her spoon into her soup with a splat, leaping onto her chair like the child did.

(98 words)5881944196_8e9ec35ef1_m

Flash Fiction A-Z: Q is for…

This is a series of very short stories, under 100 words, that include the chosen word.  Feel free to add your own in the comments below.


Q is for… Quick(er)

Waves rush in towards the land

They slow and nibble at the sand

A smell of salt and a misty spray

Always remind me of a seaside day

*

A gull sweeps down to steal my chips

Just before they reach my lips

I’m quick this time though

Quicker than all those years ago

I turn in a flash with a violent wave

Shouting and screaming for him to behave

*

I hear my name and turn around

Facing my friend who’d made the sound

And much to my unpleasant surprise

The gull dives down and claims his prize

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Flash Fiction A-Z: P is for…

This is a series of very short stories, under 100 words, that include the chosen word.  Feel free to add your own in the comments below.


P is for… Petulant

“One more try?”  Hands on hips, Barney looked down at his Daughter.

Staring at the monkey-bars looming above, the six-year-old stood and brushed dirt from her hands.  “No.  I can’t do it.”

“You’ll never get the hang of it unless you keep trying.”

The child stomped away before looking back.  “I wouldn’t mind if you could do it.”

Spurred on by her petulant challenge, he gripped the bars, bent his knees and hung.  He made no effort to swing, and after thirty seconds, fell to his knees with a thud.

The child returned to his side.  “One more try?”

(99 Words)

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A Day on the Edge of a Hurricane

It started with a gentle breeze, growing in strength to become a blustery gale.  Passers-by held their skirts, protecting their modesty.  Ladies with long hair struggled to see past the candy-floss-like mass that swirled around their heads, covering their faces.

The whirling wind buzzed and whistled, rattling everything in its path, lifting piles of fallen leaves and allowing them to take flight, free to travel to a place where they had never been before.

Overlapping clouds drifted in the sky, oblivious to the chaos below, blocking out the light.

Growing velocity of the invisible force brought a strange light, a hint of yellow, adding to the autumnal scene.  Deepening in colour, the air whisking through the neighbourhood revealed a sepia scene, an apocalyptic sky.

Everyone stopped to stare, to point, and to photograph the star of the show; the sun, resembling a blood orange sliced in half.

The wind whispered a language nobody understood, no doubt revealing the secrets of the terror it had left behind, the havoc it had planned for those further north.

As it passed, an air of calm replaced it, and the hint of yellow faded; the Sub Saharan sand relocating, scattering over the British Isles like glitter that’s lost its shine.

People spoke of the great storm of 1987, lashing waves, fallen trees, buildings destroyed and lives lost.

Although we no longer see it, the occasional gust of wind reminds us that Ophelia – now downgraded from hurricane status – continues its journey, a single-aim mission of destruction.  My thoughts are with those in the eye of the storm, those in its path, and those already hit.

Keep safe, friends in the north and in Scotland.

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Flash Fiction A-Z: O is for…

This is a series of very short stories, under 100 words, that include the chosen word.  Feel free to add your own in the comments below.


O is for… Offending

Dining with three male colleagues, Tash tried – and failed – to pick up a dim sum with her chopsticks.  With all eyes on her, she couldn’t give up.

Rex picked up his own chopsticks, reached over and griped the offending object.  “Is this what you wanted to do?”

“Something like that.”  She tried not to roll her eyes.  “Show off!”

He moved it towards his mouth, then shook his head and delivered it to her waiting lips. “You worked hard for it.”

Although it wasn’t meant to be, it was the most sensual thing a man had done in months.

(99 Words)

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The A-to-Z of Regeneration

Just for fun, a short story where every line starts with the next letter of the alphabet—running all the way from A to Z.


Another day, and a brand-new adventure was about to begin.

Bustling crowds swept through the town, cheering and singing.

Cars weaved around them, honking horns, going nowhere fast—even slower with every honk.

Dog walkers waved their poop-scoops at the impatient drivers, slowing down the whole procession.

Every single person had turned up on the recommendation of somebody else.

Friends, family and strangers, all sharing the news.

Great events rarely happened in the small desolate seaside town, so nobody wanted to miss it.

Hard-knock youths mingled with young families and elderly people, equally welcomed by the community.

Island folk even turned up on boats.

Just because they live a few miles out, didn’t make them outsiders on days like that.

Kids wouldn’t understand what was going on, but they copied their parents.

Leading the procession, a group of women clapped their hands.

Martin Sheen stood outside the new amusement arcade, scissors in his hand.

Normally these establishments were closing down, but massive regeneration had started.

Opening the first of many new venues, Martin looked shocked at the size of the crowd.

People came at him from every direction.

Quaint-village-dwellers, joined in, as welcome as everybody else, pleased to be part of the special day.

Reaching their destination, the crowds circled Martin.

Speaking as loud as he could, he announced the opening and cut the ribbon.

Taking a step aside, he allowed people to flood inside.

Up above, a news-reporter took pictures from a helicopter, flying low.

Violent downdraft messed up peoples’ hair, but didn’t deter them.

Women and men held their children close, not wanting to get separated as they entered the busy arcade.

Xeroxed leaflets were handed out, advertising six new venues, all opening within the next few days.

Yesteryears were coming back at last.

Zest for life conquered apathy, finally after twenty very long years.