Category Archives: Flash Fiction


This flash fiction is inspired by a WordPress daily Prompt from last week.

“But, how does that make you feel?” she persisted.

Ken frowned. Feel? How was he supposed to feel? Why couldn’t she just leave it alone? He turned to gaze out the window, focusing on the bright sky and vivid trees swaying in the breeze instead of the bars.

She sighed, then tried again. “Why do you think you did it?”

Did it? Did what, Ken wondered. He had done so many things in his life, and most of them leading to this room, with its industrial gray walls, bolted down furniture, and locked door. Was she worried about being locked in here with him? He shifted his attention from the sky to her.

She looked professional, with a trim business suit and hair drawn back. Concern lit her dark eyes as she leaned forward, trying to engage him. He liked her better than the guy they sent him last week, Ken decided. That guy had been smarmy, trying to be his best friend. Ken had met plenty of guys like that, and they really didn’t want to be your friend. This girl, she seemed like she might care, like she was real, like somebody’s daughter.

He wondered if his daughter was anything like her. He hadn’t seen her since she was three when her mom took her and moved away from him. She’d be twenty-three now, he realized. So many years since he had thought about her. She could have kids by now–his grandkids. Never see them in here, he knew. Ken hoped Barbara had done right, maybe even got her a good step dad.

His brother would have been a good dad, Ken thought. Maybe he’d been a good uncle too. He cast around in his memory, trying to remember the last time he’d seen Frankie. Fifteen years, maybe?

It was easier to remember their childhood games. Frankie especially loved cops and robbers, when Ken was ten and Frankie eight. Ken was the robber of course. Good life training, he thought wryly.

Sarah sat back, defeated, after the half hour passed. If only she could have provoked a response, any emotion. But he had simply stared at her, his seamed face impassive, before turning to the window again.


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Three Line Tales

hosted by Sonya, from 100 lines. Going through my Reader on WordPress, I just could not resist this picture! Check out the other short stories inspired by the picture by searching the tag “3LineTales“.

three lien tales week 99: a purple sky and a batman shaped belfry

The sky rumbled as the earth shook under the army’s feet, and Mary knew her time had come.

She had made her gamble, but it was all for nought. Under this electric sky she would be wed , and thus stripped of her lands.

Yes, her lands, Mary thought defiantly, no matter what her younger brother thought. Even though he had the King order her to marry the approaching Earl, she wasn’t done yet. She just had to think…..


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Word of the day: Opposite

“C’mon Gemma, let’s go out!”

Gemma stretched her legs, before shaking her head and fluffing her blanket along the couch.

“Why not?” Jen demanded. “It’s beautiful out.”

“It’s cold!”

“The air is so fresh.”

“Spring air is fresh, summer delightful, even winter air is bracing. Fall air is dank, with decaying leaves thrown in for good measure,” Gemma sniffed disdainfully. “Where’s the remote?”

Jen flopped on a chair. “What, so you’re just going to sit here and watch tv?”

“Yup, that’s the plan. I don’t get why everyone gets so excited about fall. Sure, the trees are pretty, spring flowers are better. And they’re dying, soon they’ll just be skeletons to hold up the snow. I don’t need to go out and scuff around in dead moldy leaves. Fall is made for snuggling under covers.”

Jen handed Gemma the remote she had found under a pile on the coffee table. “I guess we need some coffee? What we going to watch?”

“Hot cocoa,” Gemma said as she tossed aside her blanket. “And doughnuts! I think there are some pastries left in the fridge. I found the old Dynasty series on Hulu.”

“Oooh, binge worthy!” Jen giggled. “We can make fun of those style choices during the cat fights!”


So this word prompt was my own. I was thinking about how an author shouldn’t let his/her feelings influence their characters on the way home from work the other day. I was traveling through canopies of glorious fall color, and I started to wonder about people who didn’t like fall. What was that like?!  Autumn is my favorite season: I love the colors, the scents, the air,the carpet of leaves on the ground, the food (holiday parties, you know), just everything about it. I thought it might be fun to write a character that hated it!




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WordPress Prompts: Coincidence

“You know I don’t believe in coincidence”, she insisted, staring at the glint of gold on the table.

“Then how do you explain this?” he asked, easily falling back into their familiar argument. “How do you explain our meeting when you ran out of the library, and I was going in?”

“You weren’t looking where you going, that’s how! It was pure luck that you saw my copy of Treasure Island and started talking about treasure.”

“You believe in luck, but not coincidence?” he retorted. “And everyone needs a treasure.”

She looked at him, catching the tenseness around his eyes despite his flip tone. That made her feel better, knowing he wasn’t sure about the  ending. The setup, their friends, the restaurant, it had made her feel that he was assuming the answer.

“I think you might be my lucky charm,” she said archly, as she extended her hand.

The room erupted in cheers as he put the ring on her finger before pulling her to him.





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Sparkle bright

I am joining in the fun led by Miss Sonya: three line tales. She gives the pic and we decide exactly what our three lines consist of. Read the other tales by searching the tag “three line tales.” If you want to join in, check out the directions HERE.

three line tales week 85: sparkler and sunglasses

The light flared, cascading gold and silver sparkles over his hands. He thrust his hand up, waving the wand wildly, attempting to write his name in light before the end.

Then, movement below caught his eye.  Hard shiny carapaces glinted back at him in the glittering light. The final spark fell.

His eyes, blind from the bright sparks,  strained to pierce the utter blackness as he heard the clicking of hundreds of feet on the cement.


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Word Prompts

Looking for inspiration, I ran into the WordPress Daily Press prompts in my blog reader.  They had a few words (they put one out each day), but I stopped at Grainy.  What a marvelous word. There’s the grain in various woods, the grain I feed my horses, multi grain bread, against the grain; the possibilities are endless. I have to admit the first thing I thought of was whole grain mustard, like a spicy Grey Poupon.

The Fair

“I want to break up,” Chris said.

Amanda paused, the warm flavor of her hotdog, mixed with fresh bread and the artisan mustard, which she could only get here at the Tomgate fair, fading on her tongue. The sounds of the fair, the giggles and shouts as the rides dipped and swayed, the barkers at the game stands, the chatter at the bingo tables, dimmed around her. Who brings someone to a fair to break up with them, she thought wildly. it was their anniversary date!

“I mean,” he rushed on, “I think we both should date other people. You’re great Amanda, I just want…”

“To date other people, ” she finished, carefully putting her hotdog on the plate in her lap.

“Have you started dating other people?” she inquired politely.

“Oh, um, no, of course not,” he answered, avoiding her eyes. “I wanted to talk to you. It’s not like I have anyone in mind,  I have been just feeling for  awhile like you might want to move on.”

“And, I’m ok with it,” he added hastily. “I think it might be better for both of us.”

“I see,” she said carefully. “It sounds like you have given this a lot of thought. Why don’t we walk around a bit while I think about it too?”

“Ok,” he replied, clearly relieved she was being so calm.

Amanda led the way through the fair, mulling  her options. Chris, feeling relaxed as they wandered peacefully, actually reached his hand out to hold hers, before remembering and dropping it.

Finally she stopped in front of the Tunnel of Love ride. Turning smiling to Chris, she took his hand.

“Why don’t we take it one last time?”

“Sure,” he agreed, remembering how they had ridden it last year, giggling and snuggling.

He paid the fare, then they sat in the little boat. Each boat traveled out of sight of the others, so that it had privacy. Amanda leaned against him, snuggling under his arm,  until they were half way through the ride.

“I think you might be right,” she whispered, withdrawing from him. “We probably should break up.”

She stood suddenly and swung her purse directly at his head. The heavy bag knocked him unconscious as it flipped him over the side of the boat. Amanda stood watching, realizing as he sank that he had the truck keys.

“Well, damn!”





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Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Well, I am very late to the party, but I made it! I looked up the photo prompt from Priceless Joy on Thursday, but apparently it had to percolate before I was happy with it. As always, the idea is to write 100-150 story based on the photo, nicely provided by Dawn M Miller this week. Check all the other (on-time) stories HERE!

Number 19. It was empty now, waiting to be bussed. Jana had arrived way early.

She focused on the cups and napkin to keep herself from running.

Was there lipstick on one of the cups? Had it been a couple that had been sitting there?Did they leave together, or had it been a final meeting? That napkin had been crumpled in anger. But why? And did they make up?

A waitress came to the table,  wiping away the previous customers while cleaning the plastic tablecloth. Jana looked around nervously, wondering who would sit there next.

Stupid Robert, installing that app on her phone and swiping left. She hadn’t even seen the picture of whoever he had set her up with. Just a date and time. Why was she even here?

She found herself tearing her own napkin to bits as she waited. Finally, a man approached #19, glancing around. He looked uncomfortable, and Jana smiled before walking over.

“Hello, Robert.”



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three line tales

Once more I’m following Sonya’s lead into the three line universe. Check out the directions HERE if you want to play with us. And find the rest of the tales on WordPress, using the tag “three line tales.”

Carla smiled indulgently as she heard the baby coo at the birds out the window.

The sky outside the plane window stretched endlessly, speckled with birds wheeling, a perfect  pale blue limning the wing edge.

Carla glanced out again to see what the baby was giggling at, sucking her breath in horror as she saw  tendrils reaching and wrapping themselves around the plane wing.

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three line tales

I am stretching my wings by shortening my stories even more 🙂 This challenge comes from the lovely  Sonya over at Only 100 Words.  If the photo moves you, feel free to join in– directions here: TLT Guidelines. If you want to read more takes on the photo, look for Three Line Tales on WordPress.

photo by Jake Oates via Unsplash

  Before the Morning

The fence groaned into the wind, the sound filling George’s head, swirling and swirling until he lost direction.

He clutched the links, following blindly hand over hand, stomach rising.

Why, why  had he let Craig convince him to go drinking tonight??

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This is actually last week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. I started it last week, but the story just didn’t come together as I wanted til now. And I am a firm believer of better late than never 🙂 Of course, I want to thank Priceless Joy for putting the prompt out there to inspire our creativity and Sunayana for providing the photo.



“What?” Krista asked.

“Angels! I saw angels last night.”

Krista sighed inwardly. Martha was always sure she had seen something.

“Angels?” she asked her oldest friend again.

“Out there on the marsh,” Martha said excitedly. “I was walking Jackie, and he started barking and growling, you know, so I was looking around and then I saw them.”

Krista looked out where Martha was gesturing. Wisps of fog rose, but she saw no angels. Stupid dog, she thought. Always excited about something.

“Look,” Martha whispered.

Krista looked again, watching, dumbfounded, as the wisps coalesced into a white mass. It looked like land, rising out of the bog, white edges swirling. Water sluiced off as it rose, and Krista saw forms, flying above. White and filmy, she knew why Martha called them angels. But they weren’t, she understood that immediately.

“Martha, we need to go,” Krista whispered urgently.

Martha looked at her in astonishment. “Why, what do you mean?”

Krista started tugging on Martha’s arm, staring at the objects dancing in the sky. Suddenly they turned,  arrowing straight at the two women huddled together.




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