Pen

(100-word flash fiction)

She grabbed the red-ink pen as though it was a dagger.

The blank, white page looked like a virgin, innocent and waiting.

When she put pen to paper, words flowed as though blood were pouring from her fingers. Her mother’s words were dim in her memory, “words can heal or they can kill.”

She didn’t care. For her these words were like a vicious blood clot, cutting off supply to her life, choking, almost killing her. Blood had to be let.

And hand delivered.

She drove to his house. Outside, there was an open ambulance with a covered body inside.

~~~

Glad to be back writing for the Friday Fictioneers orchestrated by the lovely Rochelle. I think I got on the bandwagon a bit early this week 🙂

Photo-prompt below –

PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Sheldon

The rest of the FF stories can be found here.

The Dance

THE DANCE

I wake up to dancing dappled sunlight.

The sky has forgotten
last night’s thunderstorm.
But not the mother bird
whose nest has fallen.

Yet seeds will sprout at that spot
among the knitted twigs
and broken egg shells.

Life moves from form to form.

I only need to sit back and
watch the play of illusions.

Like the playful sunbeams
dancing gaily on my face.

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

 

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

 

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 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 9 – A fragment of a dream

For day 9, a sweet, sad poem on a dream I saw the other day –

 

A terse dream this was,
broken, anguished, blurred,
of which a fragment remains
in my memory, embedded.

A wayward bullet strikes
at lightning speed your chest,
passing through it spears,
calmly, through my breast.

Locked in a gaze we stand,
as love flows out the wounds.
Caught tight in death’s hand
as the dream softly fades.

On waking, for long I ponder;
did our souls our bodies flee
at the same moment, together?
Did they merge to become free?

Did pain set our insides afire?
Is sorrow the bullet that incinerates,
torching our ignorance, our desire,
and into freedom thus liberates?

~~~

NaPoWriMo 8 – My second skin

For Day 8, an ode to my house.

MY SECOND SKIN

My house bathed in moonlight, rests,
silent and welcoming,
and I breathe love into its spaces.

It seems a reflection of me,
the way the furniture is arranged,
the chairs facing each other.

Do they talk among themselves, I wonder,
in the stillness of the night,
picking up bits of broken-off conversation?

Does the warm air twirling up the stairs,
or the slippers, discarded, under the bed,
remind it of us, when we are away.

Do the walls rejoice with the tinkle of laughter,
does the carpet hoard shards
of my shattered dreams.

Does it feel protective, caring,
shielding us from wind and rain,
silent witness to silent pain.

Content, replete, joyous,
I settle into its calm stillness,
and it wraps itself around me.

~~~