Sleep

(100-word flash fiction)

~~~

Her father had come home drunk. Again.

There are muffled thuds coming from her parents’ bedroom. Again.

Tomorrow there will be bruises on her mother’s body and her nose will be bleeding. Again.

She counts the pills. Again.

26. She decides she has enough.

Tomorrow she will put him to sleep. Forever.

Later that night, a sound whiplashes through her skull and cracks open her sleep.

By the time she gathers her senses, her door opens and her mother stands framed in the passageway light. Wraithlike, in her pale, sheer nightgown.

When she speaks, she sounds spectral.

“I killed him.”

~~~

Oh well, here’s the fix for my Friday Fictioneers weekly craving. Rochelle, our able hostess, is to be blamed (for the craving)  🙂

Fiction based on photo prompt below –

broken-face-liz

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

The chair

 

(100 word flash fiction)

“I want my chair back!” She is uncharacteristically petulant.

“Honey please! I lent it only after Harry begged and begged.”

“It belonged to my grandmother.” Sadness begins to drape her like a shroud.

“He said he would return it next week.”

“She would sit on it, cradling me in her lap.” Tears appear between the cracks in her voice.

“I’m sure Harry will take good care of it.”

The phone rings. No one moves.

After the voicemail beep, Harry’s voice booms out.

“G’day mate. Your chair was the highlight. Burned like a match. You shoulda come for the bonfire.”

~~~~

My weekly attempt at flash fiction all for the good cause that Rochelle promotes at Friday Fictioneers 🙂

mystery-chair-ted-strutz

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

The pavement

(100 word flash fiction)

She looks down at the street. Enough height for a jump to death. The thought makes her wet with desire. As though Death was her lover, waiting on the hard, cold pavement – indifferent, smirking, rejoicing at her pain. Like her lovers.

She hurls the potted plants out. Breathing in the crisp air, she feels lighter.  Death can wait.

There’s a knock on the door.

A policeman hands her a letter.

“We found a man on the pavement below, killed by potted plants. We believe this letter is for you.”

She reads – “I’m sorry, Alice. Can I come back?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a very long break, I return for the weekly fix at Rochelle’s literary bar 🙂

Photo prompt below –

roger-bultot-flower

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

 

 

NaPoWriMo 26 – Kennings

For day 26, some kennings. Bjorn at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads presented the concept of Kennings. Or compound noun combinations.

My impromptu attempt 🙂

~~~

A leaf-fall. A leaf

falls on to the forest floor.

Beyond that, silence.

~~~

A heart-knock. Someone

knocks on my heart boarded up.

Beyond that, silence.

~~~

A tune-lilt. Lilting

tunes slowly take me apart.

Beyond that, silence.

~~~

A death-wish. Dying

to the past my only wish.

Beyond that, silence.

~~~

NaPoWriMo 23 – Autumn

For day 23, a haibun.

AUTUMN

As I enjoy the colours of autumn, it also reminds me to let go of old paradigms, worn and tattered beliefs, past-its-expiry-date relationships, outdated concepts that no longer serve. Yes, it’s hard. For don’t we all love the old and comfy, whether it be things or thoughts. The security blanket of the tried and tested.

Autumn sings hymns of
dissolution. Quiet death.
Spring smiling sleeps.

So, just like trees need to let go of the old and dying, lay bare their branches and go through a period of rest and slumber, for new buds to spring forth and life to begin anew, we need to empty ourselves of the old and outworn, so that life can replenish us with the fresh and the new.

~~~