The Aftermath

(100-word flash fiction)

She sat down and hoisted her bruised legs onto the chair, HIS chair.  The welts were still visible.

The baby moved inside her in protest.

“Calm down, darling,” she cooed, caressing the bump, a bud waiting to spring forth.  “The storm has taken him. Forever.”

Fallen spring blossoms lay strewn around them like confetti.

“He can’t hurt us anymore. We will always be safe now.”

She felt a slight pressure under her palm. Parting her blouse, she stared down, there was the unmistakable indent of a tiny palm.

She gently lay her palm over it and high-fived her baby back.

---

My today’s portraiture client was a domestic violence survivor. She said she gave birth to her daughter with bruises on her body. Black-eyes were common. She still stayed for a few more years until she mustered the courage to leave. He walked out of their lives and never contacted his kids. Her eyes were beginning to well up. I had to divert her from unpleasant memories. I guess the above story is a bit of a real-life one.

Thank you Rochelle, for keeping up all going in these difficult times 🙂

 Photo prompt –

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

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Blue or pink

(100-word flash fiction)

“Blue or pink?” Her outstretched palm holds two tiny, gleaming globes.

His pulse quickens. She is gazing at him with clouded eyes, her face impassive.

“I hope you’re not trying to kill me.” His laugh sounds fake.

He picks up the pink pill, drops it into his mouth. She does the same with the blue one.

Everything begins to get hazy, the world disappears in slow motion.

Through the haze, her voice cuts through, “I hope you don’t remember anything.”

The room rearranges itself around him, his room from 10 years ago.

Across an ocean, she gets off a bus.

—

Time travel, anyone?  I felt in these troubled times, a bit of magic realism would be fun. It’s good to be back. Hope everyone’s steering clear of the dreaded C virus and getting their shots. Thanks Rochelle, for helping keeping our creative juices flowing.

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

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Dream come true

(100-word flash fiction)

The potted palm has miraculously multiplied into a forest. My water bottle is now a waterfall, merrily splashing away, unconcerned about the carpet.

The bric-a-brac are flying birds and just when I am enjoying the dream, a voice says, “Nice, eh?”

I swivel to see emptiness.

“Make a wish!”

“Wish?”

“Today’s your lucky day. Any wish you make will come true.”

“What do I wish for? I have everything, except …. except…. I hate going to office, to lazy co-workers, and a nincompoop boss.”

“Poof!”

When I wake up, a lockdown has been declared.

I am still working from home.

~~~

Disclaimer : I certainly didn’t wish for the pandemic, but judging by reports that a lot of people enjoy working from home, it must have been in the collective consciousness for some time. Apparently, even the open-plan office setting is not good for productivity. But what do I care, I have the best job 🙂 And I get to write flash fiction every week, thanks to the lovely Rochelle 🙂

Photo prompt –

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

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The FOXy lady

(100-word flash fiction)

TEN YEARS AGO

Two weeks after Moxie went missing, they found a body in the swamp, bloated beyond recognition.

“Open-and-shut case,” declared Detective Inspector Tommy Larkins, known more for his aplomb than his detection skills. The body did get a decent funeral.

The town rallied around Charlie, slow and plodding, struggling with child-raising, yet refusing to remarry.

PRESENT DAY

The kids have flown the nest. Charlie, in the lonely house, lives for the weekend TV show, whose main character bears such an uncanny resemblance to Moxie, it makes his heart melt.

Interestingly, the show is called ‘Hiding in plain sight’.

~~~

Is it just me or are Wednesdays arriving at alarming speed? They say when you grow older time appears to be going by faster. It was just New Year’s the other day and 20 days gone already. Sigh! Thank you Rochelle for keeping the brain creative and ticking with Friday Fictioneers ♥

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Mutiny

(100-word flash fiction)

“Aren’t you going to give me a story this week?”

“I just did. Where the boy loses his arms and now cannot be a drummer, he wishes he was dead and these light beings come through the ceiling and carry him off.”

“Too whacky!”

“You know I hate giving you literal stories. So, it will have to be whacky.”

“No, please, something else.”

“No, please, you’re getting too hard to please. Stop asking. I prefer it up here among the light beings. Have you any idea how beautiful the harp sounds up here?”

Which is how I lost my muse.

~~~

Happy New Year, dear Friday Fictioneers. May you be blessed with peace, joy and good health (and be spared the deadly C). Many thanks to you lovely Rochelle, for being the gracious hostess ♥

Photo prompt –

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

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Gone

Gone

(100-word flash fiction)

Gone.

The feel of soft child-cheek pressed against her crinkly one.

Gone.

The laughter, petty fights, uncoordinated singing, at family gatherings.

Gone.

Her daughter’s daily phone calls to complain about her husband.

Gone.

The unhappiness in her grand-daughter’s eyes and the lurking fear when her step-father was around.

Gone.

The secret that young Noah hid from his parents which was slowly tearing him apart.

Gone.

Her entire family on a cruise on which a bug came visiting, killing them all.

If only she had gone with them.

Her memories now slip-sliding from her grasp. Soon, they too will be gone.

***

I had wanted so badly to write a happy, playful, joyful story in line with Christmas but the muse didn’t oblige. I think my muse is Covid-obsessed ☹ A year ago this would have read like a horror story but now it reads like a true story. We live in such strange times.

Happy Holidays, dear fellow FFs. Eat, drink and be merry (with appropriate social distancing) 🙂 Thanks once again to the delightful Rochelle, for keeping FF going so expertly. ♥

Photo prompt –

Copyright Trish Nankivell

The ghost

(100-word flash fiction)

She cannot recall when she lost her voice. As in, she would speak but no one paid any attention. The teenagers, indifferent, her husband, always on the phone.

Then, she became a ghost. In the room, but un-present, unseen, ignored. A cooking-cleaning ghost who got attention only when the food was too salty and the toilet paper ran out. Little did they know. She considered buying chillies in bulk, for the food and the toilet paper.

When her husband brought his lover home and made love to her in their bed is when she went looking for a butcher’s knife.

---

The scarecrow not having a mouth gave me this idea. It looks a bit ghostly too.

So many women in different cultures live without a voice, with no agency to exercise their choices. I wanted to write a more hefty story, with more punch and power to bring home their plight, but this is all the muse’s giving me at this late hour.

Many thanks once again to the lovely Rochelle, the helmstress of Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

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The ride

(100-word flash fiction)

Sharp slivers of pain slash into his chest. His breath grows ragged.

He looks sideways at his grandson. The 10-year-old is rapturously immersed in the steeplechase ride.

“Exactly how we felt,” they say, “each time you put a bullet into our chest.”

Despite the pain, he is amazed he is hearing voices above the din.

“You’re going through the stab of death each one of us felt.”

It dawns on him the voices are in his head.

“You’re going to be abjectly helpless.”

The pain reaches a crescendo. The ride, the voices, his heart, all stop at the same time.

***

Apologies for not responding to your comments on my last post. Work has been busy leading up to Christmas. Thank you Rochelle for yet another excellent prompt for Friday Fictioneers 😊

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

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Broken eternity

(100-word flash fiction)

“We are for eternity” that was their mantra. The only vow they exchanged, ever.

His presence is almost palpable. His fingers on her skin, like wind caressing a lake, cascading ripples of pleasure. Rain like goosebumps on water, making her shiver.

“We were for eternity” she says aloud into the lonely night, hugging herself. “You broke your vow when you broke your neck.” Everyday for four years now this has been her mantra.

As if in answer, the room fills with flashes of lightning. Drumrolls chase each other across the skies.

“Ding!” says her phone. Tinder has found a match.

***

The lines in the photo did remind me of ripples and the untied eternity sign gave me the title. Thank you Rochelle, for another round of Friday Fictioneers. I hope everyone in the US enjoyed their Thanksgiving break, despite Covid. 🙂

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

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Forgiveness

(100-word flash fiction)

She knew he would come. She had not expected flowers though. And chocolates.

She almost lost her resolve.

The charm was in place, the smoothness had not lost any of its silkiness. The dimples almost lifted her off the bed into his arms. Thank goodness her leg was broken.

“Sorry!” he said. “Faking it again,” she thought.

“Here, have some coffee!” she offered the Styrofoam cup from the hospital tray.

He took it as though it was the forgiveness she never gave.

“It helps,” she thought, “to have a nurse best friend. They know how to spike coffee with cyanide.”

***

After some very hectic work weeks, I am back. Good to start writing and reading all your stories again 😊 Good to visit your page again, Rochelle ♥

Photo prompt –

PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Eames

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