Snow

(100 word flash fiction)

Her fingers turn into icicles as the cold claws into her body replacing the oozing blood. Soft snowflakes petal down on her face.

He had walked up to her, this stranger, gun in shaking hand and shot her.

There had been a vaguely familiar twist to his lips.

On the curtain of the dark sky, her life begins to unfold rapidly in reverse until it halts in recognition on a younger, thwarted, bitter face.

A dark face peers down at her, cutting off  the snowfall.

“Ma’am. The ambulance will be here soon.”

With her last breath, she exclaims, “Andrew Parker!”

~~~~~~

*** feeling a bit flat creatively, so couldn’t come up with anything better this week 🙂 Looking forward to reading all the other delectable stories …. 🙂 ***

… that our dear shepherdess Rochelle orchestrates every week  🙂

Photo prompt –

january-snowfall-nighttime

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

 

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