(100-word flash fiction)

Shell-shocked, devastated, lost.  Amazed, was she that these words just floated through her mind without the corresponding feeling.

He was warm in her arms, soft and surrendering, asleep blissfully.

Blissful, content, fulfilled, alive – she had felt those not long ago. Her heart full to brimming. Joyous.

Now, her mind wandered outside her body, adrift, turning over words as though a child would pebbles, looking at them curiously, looking for clues.

Until it found two that fitted so perfectly, it decided to keep them forever.

Irrevocably. Broken.

That’s how she finally felt holding the freshly dead body of her baby.


My brother lost a few days old baby many years ago. I had wondered then, how the mother would have felt. I guess it cannot be imagined.


Another Wednesday, and it’s time for flash fiction fun at the Friday Fictioneers all captained by the gracious Rochelle. I know someone is going to say there’s nothing ‘just joyfulness’ about this story. Well, what can I say?

Photo prompt –

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Triple trouble



The sudden sound startled him. For, he was alone.

Whooshing sounds like the sound of soft fabric rustling, followed.

He freaked out when he began to hear an almost indistinct, thin, crawling, creepy voice.

“ have to make do ….” “not much flesh on this one …..” “to feed…..”

He looked down at the book he was reading, his study material for his Ph.D. dissertation, on schizophrenia.

No, it couldn’t be. He was so normal, he was boring.

A long ‘Whoooooosh’ made him look up.

The suspended spider was the last thing he saw, it front legs pointing at him.


I started out with the above story and I thought it is not very original. So, I asked for another one. I got two more. The good thing about composing stories when you are in the shower is that they come pouring out of the water faucet 🙂 You may stop reading, or keep on reading (at your own peril) 🙂

Rochelle, please don’t think I am trying to pass off a 300-word story as 3 100-word stories. That was not my intent at all 🙂 They came to me during different times of the shower 🙂



There were spiders everywhere.

They were in various colours. Black, yellow, brown, white.

The large ones strode on all eights, powerful and tyrannical. The littler ones walked behind them on their sixes carrying insect parts between their fore legs, feeding the large ones when they turned and opened their mouths.

“Hey!” “You!”  He turned to see a large spider behind him, looking belligerent.

“What colour are you? You have to have a colour.”

He looked down at his body. It was a featureless grey.


Everything stopped and a mad stampede towards him began.

“Ding-dong,” said the door-bell.



It was Spinne, the friendly neighbourhood video guy.

“Here are all the Spiderman videos we had, Mr.Webb. We are closing down and I know how much you love Spiderman. You can have them.”

“Thanks! All the best with your new business”

No Netflix for him tonight. He was going to Spiderman-binge.

The video player was dusty and after ten minutes of fiddling, it was attached. The oldest video went in with a whoosh. He pressed the ‘Play’ button.

The lights flickered, then dimmed.

Out of the video player, there poured a steady stream of spidery shapes, marching resolutely towards him.


I can imagine we will be getting a fair share of horror stories this week at Friday Fictioneers 🙂 Head over to Rochelle’s page for the rules for participating and to read her story.


(100-word flash fiction)

It was a ship with special powers. When the weather was just right, the white sails would turn into birds’ wings, begin to flap and gently lift the ship free from leaden water into the clouds.

There was one condition, though. The women had to sing. So they swayed, their grass skirts twirling in graceful arcs, their voices rising and falling like air currents, holding the ship aloft.

One day, while they were in the air, a young lad (with sharp eyes) glimpsed green through a gap and cried “Land!”

The singing stopped.

The ship descended and Aotearoa was discovered.


This is a work of fiction inspired by the various legends and stories of how the Maori arrived in Aotearoa (Maori name for New Zealand which means The Land of the Long White Cloud). The actual stories are far more interesting, intriguing, inspirational and magical.

When I saw the prompt photo, I immediately thought of sails and well, it’s a new year and being the hopeless romantic that I am, there HAD to be singing and dancing and MAGIC 🙂

A VERY JOYOUS NEW YEAR TO ALL MY FRIDAY FICTIONEER FRIENDS 🙂 And a big hug to Rochelle for keeping the tradition alive 🙂

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

HAPPY 2018

I watched the movie ‘The Danish Girl’ the other day and afterwards I was thinking about the difficulties a transgender person goes through even to this day. How frustrating it must be to identify oneself as some one else whilst being trapped in an increasingly alien body. How disorienting to lose connection with one’s identity and not being able to take on another. How painful to suppress this burgeoning identity and try to live a life of conformity.

When it occurred to me that that’s what we all do. R. Buckminister Fuller said, “All children are born geniuses, and we spend the first six years of their lives degeniusing them.”

Google says, the word ‘genius’ has its roots in the late Middle English word gignere ‘beget’: from Latin, ‘attendant spirit present from one’s birth, innate ability or inclination’.

We have genius in us from birth, but very soon society gets about stamping it out trying to turn us into socially conforming people. And we spend the rest of our lives frustrated and despairing, seeking something we have lost connection with, not knowing what, sedating ourselves with possessions, experiences, validation. And tragically, most of us dying with our songs unsung, with our genius buried deep inside.

So, this New Year, I wish for everyone to reconnect with our attendant spirit, our daemon, our innate genius, and let it out to stretch its wings and soar.