The hands

(100-word flash fiction)

“I am dizzy with going round and round,” the minute hand says to the hour hand, sitting comfortably close on 12.

The second hand (just crossing 11) overhears while lurching towards them.

“DIZ-ZY? FUN-NY-YOU-SAY-THAT,” it staccatos, lurching away.

“I wish this darn thing would stop.” Unfazed, Minute continues its rant.

“Time seems very important to humans.” Hour is wise and laidback, as always.

“They look at us with such anxiety, even dread, as though we are their enemy.”

“I only look at the baby. It sleeps when it wants, cries when it is hungry and has no use of us.”

~~~

Wanted to write something light this week after all the gloomy and sad stuff I’ve been writing. Also, I am finding it fascinating getting into the minds of non-human things. Even though we can’t really know what they are experiencing, it’s still good to anthropomorphise 🙂 as a fantasy or empathy exercise 🙂

The flash fiction writing itch for the Friday Fictioneers starts on Thursday (or probably Wednesday, but it’s the middle of the night here when Rochelle posts her prompt :)) To participate head over to Rochelle’s page, read the rules, put your writing cap on and have fun with 100 words.

This week’s photo prompt –

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

Father, future

(100-word flash fiction)

Mr.Krauss is bewildered. He had woken up in the morning sitting on the staircase handrail.

A gigantic version of his wife appears in the doorway.

The look and scream of horror is understandable. After all he had perfected the art of ‘keeping his woman in place’.

His son appears next, uncharacteristically bold, with a raised cricket bat.

Mr.Krauss roars his usual disapproval. Soft chirps issue forth.

Amazingly, he discovers his eyes can swivel independently as his daughter comes up from behind, whispering softly while trapping him in a shoebox.

“Don’t worry Daddy, the spell will last only a hundred years.”

~~~~~

Thank you Rochelle for choosing such a beautiful photo this week. Nature’s creations are so marvelous. I couldn’t help stare that the magnificent creature. Do you know what it is called?

This week Friday Fictioneers photo prompt is a thing of beauty.

PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma

 

Love said to me

by RUMI

Last night
I lost my grip on reality
and welcomed insanity.

Love
saw me and said,
I showed up.
Wipe you tears
and be silent.

I said, O Love
I am frightened,
but it’s not you.

Love said to me,
there is nothing that is not me.
be silent.

I will whisper secrets in your ear
just nod yes
and be silent.

~ Rumi

Sunshine

(100-word flash fiction)

He had come home one day and found them all gone, including his house. There was just a bomb crater in their place.

But his heart refuses to believe they are dead. By day, he combs the refugee shelters, eyes bright with not blinking.

At night, he soothes himself with memories. How little Fatima she would spring into his arms, smile brighter than sunrise, a tinkling santur for laughter.

He hears hopeful stories of boats and stories of death.

Finally, he spots her. The sunshine of his life. On a newspaper page.

Only, in her eyes, the sun had set.

~~~~~~

Tried hard to write a lovely, little sweet story, but my muse is a stubborn one 🙂

Thank you Rochelle, for hosting this weekly party of eclectic flash fictioneers 🙂 And, your photo is lovely!

clouds-above-the-trees

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

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

 

 

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.

~~~