flash fiction

Friday Flash Fiction – Dark Dialogue

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The Lodger

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Jamie Ferrous: Hi Mum, this is Vlad from work, I told him he could stay for a few weeks; you said you wanted a lodger.

Mother: Oh, er um, I didn’t mean straight away, I thought we would discuss it with your sisters first… we haven’t got that basement room ready yet, it’s a bit dark.

Jamie: Yeah but that’s the point innit, Vlad works nights, he needs somewhere quiet and dark to sleep during the day.

Vlad: It’s very kind of you Mrs. Ferrous, I won’t be any trouble, I don’t play loud music and I eat on my shift at the hospital.

Mother: Is that a Polish name, you sound English.

Vlad: Mum was East European.

Mother: Put the kettle on Jamie, let’s make Vlad feel at home.

Jamie: So he can stay then?

Mother: Let’s call it a trial for two weeks, after all, it may not suit him; have you told Vlad what the girls are like?

Jamie: That’s why it will be good to have another bloke around, I’m fed up with being outnumbered.

Mother: Are you on the same ward as Jamie?

Vlad: No I’m a porter, taking bodies to the mortuary and all that.

Mother: Goodness.

Vlad: Someone has to do it and it’s only till I’ve saved enough for uni.

Mother: What are you hoping to study?

Vlad: Medicine, so I’ll be working with live bodies eventually.

Jamie: Tea or coffee Vlad?

Vlad: I’m fine thanks, I’ve got a bottle of water with me.

Mother: Are you on a health kick?

Vlad: You could say that, if you saw some of the bodies we have to heave onto the trolleys you would understand why I like to keep myself trim.

Mother (admiringly): You certainly look very athletic, a bit pale though, but we all are still at this time of year.

Jamie: Except for Aunty Vivian and Uncle Ben.

Mother (enviously): They spent most of the winter cruising.

Vlad: I prefer misty mountains, I’m a winter person.

Mother: I bet you’re from Yorkshire, with that accent.

Vlad: Yes, East coast.

Mother: Oh we had a lovely holiday in Whitby years ago, do you remember Jamie?

Jamie: Yes, it rained.

Mother: We went to that nice fish and chip shop.

Vlad: What a coincidence, that’s my home town.

Jamie: Can we show Vlad the room now, we’ve got to get off to work soon.

Mother: Yes, of course… oh that’s lucky, sounds like the girls are home, they’ve been to the cinema.

Three teenage girls in unison: Ohh… er… hello… uhm…

Jamie: Vlad, these are my idiot baby sisters. Girls, this is our new lodger.

Girls: oooh…

Vlad: You didn’t tell me how beautiful they were, very very pleased to meet you all.

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11

Friday Flash Fiction-A Tale of Two Towns

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The couple winding their way down Glastonbury Tor were in colourful contrast to the middle aged couple, in their matching National Trust green anoraks, marching up the hill. She wore flowing skirts in every hue from lilac to violet and her Peruvian hand knitted jacket brightened the grey afternoon. He wore trousers of a rusty, rustic indeterminate material and a greengage green jacket lovingly hand woven by her.

‘I can’t believe it’s nearly Beltaine’ she said.

‘No,’ he replied ‘if this weather doesn’t warm up I can’t see new life arriving anywhere.’

She shivered. ‘I’ll be glad to get back to a nice warm cosy yurt.’

‘We’d better get a move on or the kids will be back.’

‘No they won’t Hengist,’ she smiled ‘Flint’s got maypole practice after school and Amethyst’s going round to her friend’s yurt.’

‘Well Aurelia, it should be a very cosy yurt.’P1060792

‘What’s for dinner Mum?’ yelled the children as they arrived back later.

‘Five bean stew and ground elder crumble; call your dad while I check if that wool’s finished steeping.’

Aurelia reached the reclaimed animal trough in the corner of the field as Hengist climbed carefully over the stile.

‘Only three eggs today, Hetty and Lotty could do with some sunshine as much as the rest of us.’

‘What do you think of this colour?’ she asked him, peering into the trough.

‘Looks the same shade of green as the last lot.’

‘I’m going to try making some new dyes in the summer, berries are going to be in this year.’

After dinner they settled down for a quiet family evening.

‘Has anyone seen my crystals?’ sighed Aurelia.

‘Help your mother look Flint; Amethyst, time for flute practice.’

‘Dad, will you play your lute?’

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Later, as the children settled down to sleep, the parents chatted quietly.

‘Did you read that letter Flint brought back from Miss Fairweather, Hengist?’

“Yes, I think we’d  both better go and see her. The only one with a problem is her. She was glad enough when he got the boys interested in maypole dancing, just because he explained the origins of the maypole… anyway, how was your new patient?’

‘She was a funny soul… I said to her

I’m alternative and herbal, not homeopathic, I do strong doses… no there’s no need to worry about hemlock and digitalis if you know what you’re doing.’

‘Old Bob said to thank you, his arthritis has hardly bothered him this winter, he’s going to recommend you to all his friends. Maybe you can give up your Saturday job now.’

‘But I’ve got to liking it and we needed that money over the winter.’

‘Now I’m hedge laying again there’s no need’ he pleaded.

‘I do like it Hengist, getting dressed up, having a laugh with the girls and it gets me out of the yurt.’

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On Saturday morning Aurelia walked down to the town with her large hand woven bag over her shoulder. As she got on the local bus there was a musical tinkling from her earrings and bangles. She greeted other locals and after driving to Street they soon arrived at their destination, Clarks Shopping Village.

She entered the ladies and went into the disabled cubicle where there was more room. Carefully she took off her jacket of undyed local wool, rolled up her burnt orange and berry red skirt and slipped off the leather sandals Hengist had made. She stepped into her uniform, squeezed her feet into court shoes, gathered up her black tresses in a neat bun at the nape of her neck and finally put on a subtle pink lipstick and a suggestion of eye shadow. Aurelia walked out ready for a busy day at Marks and Spencer shopping outlet.

‘Hello Linda’ said her supervisor. ‘Till Four today.’

On Till Three her friend greeted her, caught her up with the latest gossip from the soaps and passed on her celebrity magazines. After a busy morning they went off for lunch at the restaurant.

‘It’s only once a week’ said Aurelia, as she ordered a Megaburger with extra French fries.

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Friday Flash Fiction 330 – Sunny Story

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                                Guy and Harriet     

 Guy stood on the terrace, looking down upon the descending jigsaw of red, grey and black roofs that hid the town’s narrow twisting lanes. Then he gazed out towards the white flecked turquoise of the Atlantic Ocean and felt on top of the world. Spring had arrived at last and with it the visitors, business was looking up. Harriet had been right; living at the top of the town suited their family perfectly. A noisy family he thought ruefully, always squabbling and why did they always look so untidy? Guy himself was always immaculately turned out in his trademark grey and freshly laundered white.

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Immediately below him a woman was hanging out washing, a lot of washing, she ran a bed and breakfast. It was a long trek for her guests, down to the smooth beach, especially if they didn’t know the way; they didn’t realise that when they booked up on the internet. Guy chuckled to himself; he could have told them the best way to get around town. He’d lived here all his life and wouldn’t dream of living anywhere else; beaches, grassy headlands, the harbour, art galleries and best of all restaurants and cafes that catered for every taste.

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Harriet’s shrill call interrupted his thoughts. He called back.

‘No of course I’m not going to stand in the sun all day, yes I know I promised to go into town and get some food.’

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He stretched his limbs, felt the sun on his face, sniffed the sea air then stepped forward and launched himself into the air. The first flight of the morning always felt good. He soared high, circled to test the currents then glided gracefully towards the beach, where he spotted his first business of the day, a happy family picnic. Stunned by his sudden appearance, a toddler held his arm outstretched. Guy swooped skilfully, then flapped his wings for a sharp ascent, a whole sandwich in his yellow beak.

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Guy and Garriet is one of the flash fiction tales in Someone Somewhere; stories from 75 to 20,000 plus words, short stories and two novellas.

 

 

Friday Flash Fiction 369

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Trapped

So this was it, what I had always dreaded; this was what it felt like to be paralysed, trapped in a useless body completely at the mercy of others. I wanted to say Well I’ll be off then, but I was going nowhere. I could move my head and arms, I could speak, but I was flat on my back and the rest of my body felt like a trussed oven-ready chicken. No amount of concentration could make my leg move or my body lean over. How dreadful for those left totally paralysed or struck down by a stroke; unable to speak, left to listen fully aware while doctors discuss whether you are a vegetable, alive or dead. I tried to cast these dark thoughts from my mind and concentrate on my own predicament. I had such plans for this year, only this morning I had been strolling in the sunshine, but after tonight my life would never be the same.

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I breathed slowly, taking it all in; bright lights, murmuring voices, figures in green moving calmly around, equipment with buttons and red numbers. Perhaps I was experiencing the ultimate human nightmare; the figures all wore masks, everything felt unreal – I could be on an alien spaceship. Had I lost minutes, hours, days of my life?

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One of the figures was talking to me. ‘Can you feel that?’

‘Feel what?’ I replied, relieved that he sounded human.

He turned to speak to another figure. ‘No sensation in lower body, blood pressure okay.’ He turned back to me. ‘This is Doctor Campbell, we’re ready to proceed, how are you feeling?’

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My surroundings closed in on me. A screen went up, there was only my head which the masked face was talking to, my arms which he was poking things into and a machine above me with its bleeping and flashing numbers. I tried to make intelligent replies, hoping to be seen as an individual not a lump of meat strapped to the table.

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The murmurs beyond the screen were getting louder and more excited. Another masked face spoke to me ‘Nearly there now.’

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There was a general sigh of relief and satisfaction. ‘Here we are, it’s a Boy!’

Friday Flash Fiction – Fortunes

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On The Pier

I did the test that morning, it was positive. I should have been pleased, but all I could think about was last night’s Crimewatch. Of course I had no proof, just a gut feeling, so instead of phoning I went for a walk down to the sea front to clear my head. I wandered onto the pier and that’s when I had the idea.

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I stood beside the gypsy caravan and read the sign.

LET ROSA TELL YOUR FORTUNE… AND GIVE ADVICE

Nervously I climbed the two wooden steps and opened the creaky door. It was pretty and cosy inside, not scary at all. A grandmotherly figure beckoned me to sit down; her cheeks were rosy and her dark eyes sympathetic. She took my hands but did not look at them.

‘Er… do I have to pay?’

‘No dear, I would never take money from one so deeply troubled.’

My mouth was dry, I didn’t speak.

‘You will have your wish, a beautiful son; but if you want to see him grow up you know what you must do today. Go now.’

‘But I don’t understand…’ I mumbled, as she motioned me out.

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But I did understand. I climbed down the steps, closing the door behind me and reached into my bag for my mobile. I tapped in the number that was etched on my brain, the Crimewatch number.

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More flash fiction and longer stories in Someone Somewhere.

Take a peek.

 

 

 

Friday Flash Fiction Five Hundred

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                                                     Terminal State

 

‘No one will ever know,’ said my friend that day in 1959 ‘and it was an accident.’

I expect that is what lots of murderers plead, but we were only ten years old. To this day I have no idea who he was, but I’ll never forget the look of surprise on his face, then the look of terror.

‘Be careful girls’ said my mother as we set off that sunny day.

We liked to watch the aeroplanes, then we would go exploring; Stanwell Moor, Colnbrook village, farms, fields and streams. We were free to wander the western edges of London Airport as long as we didn’t go near Perry Oaks.

My aunt and uncle had lived in Heathrow Village, till they were evicted during the war, but my parents lived out their years on the farm under the flight path, wedged between the runways. Up until the last it was like living in the country except for the ranks of landing lights.

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‘Stay together, don’t talk to any strangers and be back at teatime.’

He must have been a stranger, because no one noticed he had gone. For weeks we expected the police to turn up, looking for someone’s husband or father… or an escaped convict, after all he did act strangely.

‘You two girls out on your own? Have you ever seen a water vole?’

I nudged my friend, we turned to walk away, but he followed and what he showed us wasn’t a water vole. We wanted to run, but we were trapped on the edge of a bank that descended steeply. He was blocking the footpath that led back the way we had come.

‘Count to three then rush past him’ she said.

What happened next happened so quickly; it could have been any one of the three of us that went in; did we push him or did he slip? We had strayed into the forbidden territory, Perry Oaks sludge works and as he slipped under we knew why our parents feared it.

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Looking back as a teenager, an adult, I realised he was a flasher, a harmless loner perhaps. But had he followed us? Would he have murdered us? Two missing girls and every stretch of water would have been dragged, but his body was never found. We never told a soul, we didn’t want to get into trouble for being out of bounds; or that’s what we told ourselves.

My friend’s family took her off to Australia, we lost touch. I wondered if she ever told anyone, for years I half expected a policeman to knock on the door.

Then came the planning enquiry, five long years. We prayed the development would be turned down, no one wanted the upheaval and destruction, the removal of the last farm. But that is not what I dreaded.

Digging, draining, what would they find; a body preserved like peat bog man? When Terminal Five Heathrow opened, I knew at last that no one would ever know.

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‘Terminal State’ is one of the Flash Fiction Tales featured in

Someone Somewhere.

 

 

 

Friday Flash Fiction Fantasy on Earthwatch

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Theelma put down the Andromeda Advertiser and folded her legs in disgust. ‘Nothing on telly tonight.’

‘What about Earthwatch?’ said Xoxes.

‘Precisely, a whole rotation devoted to a hidden webcam on some obscure planet.’

‘But that’s why it’s so interesting, it was only a few revolutions ago they were telling us life could not possibly exist on a planet covered with water… and now folks even go there on holiday.’ Xoxes laughed ‘You wouldn’t catch me going there mind, but I am going to watch the programme… creatures so different from every other species in the universe.’

‘Revolting, did you see the pictures in the Andromeda Times?’

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Later that rotation Xoxes settled himself up to watch the cabinet. Reluctantly Zeelma climbed up beside him.

‘Is it Xis Zackam? Oh good, I like him.’

‘Welcome to Earthwatch, the first of ten live episodes beaming down from the blue planet. Episode One we’ve called ‘Poeplewatch’ as we take a view of the crowded settlements where the dominant land beings cling to dry outcrops. Professor Zawk calls them Poeples after the strange sounds they utter. Professor, what are we seeing now?’

‘The bizarre nesting structures they create are a great achievement for creatures with only four limbs.’

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‘Is it correct that all the species have only four limbs?’

‘As far as we know. This is what is so exciting, a planet that has more diverse species than we could imagine, more diversity than any other planet we have discovered. It is as if evolving creatures had to make a choice how to use their limbs: to swim, to fly, to run fast or to make things. Now watch these Poeples managing to balance on only two legs, their shrunken second pair of legs are used for carrying food supplies.’

‘A lot of activity, why are they scurrying around so fast?’

‘We think they must always need to get back to their tall nests quickly, in constant fear of the water, do you see how water is surging near their nests?’

‘Oh, what’s going on now Professor?’

‘This is strange, all going in one direction past the nests, towards the water, evidence of organisational abilities?’

‘So many, makes you dizzy to watch.’

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‘Can’t we turn it off now?’ complained Zeelma ‘my serial’s on soon.’

‘Wait, look they’re going in for a close up.’

‘Some viewers may find the following scenes disturbing… yes, the camera is zooming in to focus on individuals, yes this is fantastic, for the first time viewers at home can see a close up of the visages of Poeples. Their visages are singularly lacking in features, a large opening, a protuberance and two sunken hollows.’

‘And no antennae,’ added the Professor ‘no wonder they’re always bumping into each other.’

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Friday Flash Fiction Fantasy

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                                      Andromeda Advertiser                           

       The Hotel Inspector

 How long would you spend in suspended animation to reach a one planet solar system? How many holidaymakers would be prepared to trek across the universe to visit the only habitable planet in a third rate solar system? Planet Gaia has only one moon and an outdated space station; what it does have is water and this is the main selling point in their first venture into intergalactic tourism.

The second unusual feature is its tilted axis, which gives it a great variety of climates to choose from. The downside? The brochures omit to mention the unpredictable nature of the locals, or even to explain which is the prime species.

Our tour started when we woke up on the moon, quaintly called Lunar Base. From here we enjoyed wonderful views of the shining blue planet; this alone made the trip worthwhile. We had yet to meet our hosts.

Next stop was the antiquated space station which must be pre booked due to lack of space, but essential if you wish to orbit Gaia.

By the time we landed on the planet we were ready for a meal. We had chosen a tiny island with a mild climate which boasted large colonies of homosapiens. The hotel itself was on the edge and not for the faint hearted unused to water.

This was when the tour began to lose some of its starlight. How do the locals expect to attract tourists without making any effort to learn their language? Even the sign language was limited by their possession of only two arms. It can only be presumed that the more intelligent species live in the oceans, but we did not have time for the underwater trips, nor was our travel agent accredited for this risky expedition.

Our meal was surprisingly tasty and we were soon ready for our guided tour. Having come this far I was determined to put my foot in the water which is called by many names; here it was flat, thin, perfectly safe and called sea. The sensation was not unpleasant and we also enjoyed watching the homosapiens splashing around making their mating calls.

Our party of three and a half was booked in for five days, but the brochure skimmed over the fact that the days are very short, making the stay poor value for money. The ablution facilities consisted of more water, with no sign of any hot dust. Our first night was cramped and uncomfortable; we should have been advised to book more than one room.

The most fascinating aspect was the rapid change of atmospheric conditions. We had not been guaranteed rain, so we were delighted on the second day when the hotel was pounded by strong air currents full of water. From our viewing platform we could see the water had now turned to waves and we were glad to be in the shelter of the hotel.

How did I rate the experience? Mixed; frankly we were glad that the days were so short. I gave our accommodation five suns.

 

 

Flash Fiction Friday

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I was once short listed for a six word flash fiction competition at https://www.magicoxygen.co.uk/    The excitement in the house (mainly mine) was of Olympic proportions. If I had won the £100 prize it would be the most £s per word I was ever likely to be paid. The six words?

‘I am starting again’ said God.

A tale that covers the whole universe and time itself? Is it fiction, does flash fiction need to tell a story. Could ‘Instructions’ be the sequel?

Instructions

‘Just follow the instructions,’ said the exasperated father ‘you put too much water in last time.’

‘But it looked so beautiful and shiny.’

‘Sparkle and glitter are no good if it doesn’t work properly. You need to get the axis straight for a start.’

‘The axis would have been fine if my stupid sister hadn’t thrown lumps of rock.’

‘You must learn by your mistakes, the structure has been unstable all along, you were over ambitious. Now it’s time to get back to basics and before we can do that you need to dismantle E1. It’s all recycling these days… Don’t look at me like that, you knew we’d have to put them down; you can have new pets when I’m satisfied with E2; not so many this time, pets that don’t eat each other or kill one another.’     141 words

 

How long is flash fiction?  Paragraph Planet publishes a daily piece that must be 75 words exactly. Several of us at writers’ group had one or more paragraphs accepted and for a while it became an obsession to tailor a piece to 75 words.   http://www.paragraphplanet.com/

Cold

A crystalline cold dawn; heavy snow had reached their valley for the first time. His master had just made it back. Usually Nicolai hated the long winter nights, but each breath that seared his lungs brought hope. In late afternoon the clear sky brought a violet shimmer to the virgin snow at the graveyard. Nicolai thrust his stick through crystal layers; it juddered on the iron cold ground. The master would not be arising tonight.    75 words

 

Several of us once entered a one hundred word competition with the theme of inventing a new word. We were unsuccessful. The winning entries were very serious and intense.

Reursinement

Her Majesty’s minister barely read the title of the document ‘Reursinement – Natural Culling’ before scanning the paragraphs… environmentally sustainable… ecological balance… and signing his name. His constituents and the Forestry Commission should be delighted, fewer complaints about car accidents, trampled gardens or ruined saplings.

Operation Goldilocks took place at night, the team quickly assessed their new environment; those experiencing freedom for the first time guided by the migrants from North Eastern Europe.

Nearby, a stag sniffed the night air and felt a primeval fear.

Days later the news headlines read

Walker Killed as Bears Introduced to Beauty Spot without Public Consultation

 

Do you prefer something longer?

Felicity’s Farewell

Caroline hated crematoriums, but Felicity had been her best friend. Mathew looked drawn, ill; thankfully the thirty minute slot meant a short ceremony.

Always look on the bright side of life…

Fliss had joked she wanted that song played at her funeral; some of the elderly relatives looked shocked, already upset there would be no vicar, no service. Her friend was an atheist who abhorred hypocrisy. They had discussed funerals after enduring a requiem mass for a colleague. Felicity had not expected hers to be so soon, but she had made one serious request; her body should be used for medical research. Only Caroline and Mathew knew of this request; under the circumstances cremation was the wisest option.

Mathew was seated in the front row, Felicity’s parents either side. Her sister, a tower of strength, now rose to speak. Caroline clasped her open bag, checking again that her phone was switched off and the throat lozenges were handy; she would speak next.

Her eyes darted back to the bag, a glow, a text message…

Seems I got it wrong; I am to meet my maker…

Caroline shivered as the message rolled, was someone playing a joke? She tried to switch off.

No joke Caro, you and Mathew will have to account one day. I was blind, hindsight is a wonderful thing, especially on the other side. Tell the truth, don’t let them press the button, forensics must speak for me. Then I can move on, perhaps forgive you both… Fliss             250 words

If you can think of an original six word story, please add it in Comments.

I included flash fiction in my collection ‘Someone Somewhere’.