Frost

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

This week’s photo prompt is provided by loniangraphics.


Frost

Candy continued poking at the frost on the leaves. Once it all was gone, she curled her numb finger into her palm, forming a fist to try and warm it up again. Her legs were burning, her feet numb. Her new boots weren’t keeping some of the wind out. She had been standing there since before the sun came up, waiting for her friend. It was her fault she was so cold. She wanted to be early to surprise him.

Meet me by the tree, his letter had said. He would have a big surprise for her. Candy couldn’t imagine what that would mean. Surely, he would never marry her. Susie was far more suited to be his wife. His letter had promised that he would come to say hello. He was back from the war. It was over.

His mother came to the house later that day, her eyes red and puffy. Candy had waited as long as she could. In the end the frost made it impossible. His mother sat down and gathered Candy’s hands in hers. He wasn’t coming home.


(183 words)

 So late to the party, but I made it!

Perfection

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

108th Challenge

This week’s prompt provided by The Storyteller’s Abode. I absolutely love this picture!


Perfection

Mother stood against the cabinet, holding onto it for support. She had been having Marie tighten her corset more and more every few weeks; even though she could almost barely stand or breathe. She still looked so regal with the sunlight shining over her from the window. Her face always in a perfect soft smile.

Father and Josephine were still singing. Josephine’s eyes darting up toward me every few seconds, reminding me of my part coming up soon.

But I was keeping my eyes on mother. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Why was she doing this to herself? Why could only I see the pain and suffering in her eyes that she tried so hard to hide? Why won’t father see?

My part in the song came and went. Father stopped playing.

“If you want a husband one day,” mother said, “you need to be perfect in all you do. Perfect in every way.”

Father started playing again, Josephine’s eyes baring into me. I sang my part. Perfectly.

Perfect would make her happy.


( 179 words)

I had food poisoning earlier this week and it kind of ruined any writing plans I had. Will try to be on top of things again from next week.

Connecting People

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

This week’s prompt provided by Sunayana MoiPensieve


Connecting People

Wait, what is this?

There’s a guy in the middle of the street performing a concert. Equipment and everything. I really need to get to a toilet.

I stopped. Another woman stopped, too.

I know this song. It’s something classical. Gran vals something? Dad used to play it all the time.

I took out my phone. I needed to google it. Gran vals by Francisco Tarrega. Camera on, recording. I need to show this to my dad. He’s going to freak out.

Man, I still really need to pee.

There’s a crowd forming on the other side, all with their phones out too. This guy really is amazing. He’s holding the entire crowd with just the guitar. Slowly, my hands fall down and I put my phone back into my pocket. Dad’s gone. I can’t show it to him.

So I watch. Soon the woman next to me puts her phone away as well.

We just listen.


(149 words)

0:09 to 0:15

 

Red rust

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

106th Challenge

This week’s prompt comes from The ForesterArtist

Go and have a look!


Red Rust

The group all crouched down, copying her as she looked out into the forest.

“It’s a car,” Carl said.

Everyone relaxed. Laylas walked out toward it, lowering her gun.

“We must be close to the city,” she said.

She ran her hand over the rough, rusted metal. They needed to find medicine for their mother. Only hardened Jaguar Warriors were sent to the city to find anything that the village could use. Laylas imagined the city would look a lot like the car; stripped and laid bare.

“We should stop a while,” she said, looking at Carl. “Rest while we can.”

“No. If Jaguar Warriors catch us, they’ll kill us.”

The rust left red dust on her fingers. Laylas smeared it across her cheek, pretending to be a blooded member of the Jaguars. Carl didn’t find it funny. He licked his thumb and wiped away her stripes.

“You’ll get us killed before they ever find us,” he said. Laylas quickly fell in behind the rest of the group, some rust still on her fingertips.


(174 words)

*Jaguar Warriors were inspired by Aztec Military. I watched a video about it the other day where it was briefly explained. It seemed like a good idea for a post- apocolyptic society. You can read about it here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaguar_warrior

*Laylas was meant to be Layla, but I accidentally added an S and now I like it.


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Maybe it won’t be so bad

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Prompt provided by MajesticGoldenRose!


Maybe it won’t be so bad

Nancy grimaced as she pulled up her stiletto from the mud. Jack wasn’t even waiting for her anymore, he was already talking to the farmer. Why did he want cows? What were they going to do on a farm in the middle of nowhere, without the city and all its glory?

There was a patch of grass she could walk on. She would give him a piece of her mind. Again.

“I have the cows ready for you, Jack,” the farmer said. He gave her a strange look before escorting Jack closer to the pen. Nancy huffed, ready to explode. She pulled her sunglasses off to clean them. What was that?

She didn’t hear Jack walk back to her. “Cute, isn’t it?”

Nancy huffed, looking away from the calf that was staring at her. “When are we leaving?” she asked.

“I think she likes you.”

She turned her head back, smiling this time. The calf really was cute. And fluffy. “Cows are fluffy?”

Jack laughed. “I suppose you can find out soon. She’s coming with us.”

Excitement danced in her, rising to her heart. How strange.

Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.


Cows are cute though. Especially Highland Cattle. Also, I have no idea how farms work. 

Image result for highland cows

A complicated way of getting someone to the airport

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Dawn Miller for our photo prompt this week!


A complicated way of getting someone to the airport

I hated going out. There are extroverts, introverts, and then me. There is no scale for me, because I fell off of it.

I have apps for everything- food, clothes, books, etc. On Tuesdays I always ordered my favourite three-cheese pizza. When I lifted the lid to add my special ingredient (Parmesan- I like to make it a four-cheese pizza), I saw it. I picked up a piece, took a big bite of the gooey richness, and let the smell envelope me before I read it. Pizza is my one weakness.

In big, black letters it said: I poisoned the pizza. Come to the airport if you want to live.

I recognized my sister’s handwriting.

“This is a joke, right?” I asked as soon as she picked up the phone.

“Not at all, Ariel. Better get packing. I’ll see you at six.”

I threw the pizza out and got ready for bed. But my sister knew me well. Before long all I could think of was poison flowing in my veins. Around four I gave in and packed.

She waited with two tickets and a small vial filled with clear liquid. She only gave it to me once we were on the plane. It was oil. She used me against myself to go and visit her boyfriend, because she didn’t want to fly alone.

I deserved it.


(227 words) It’s a lot over the word count limit. I’m very sorry!

And I’m not sure if it’s an airport or a train station in the photo, so I just went with airport.

Her tree

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Prompt provided by Shivangi Singh!


Her tree

When she was sad, she would look at that tree and imagine that she was climbing it’s long, outstretching branches into lands unknown and made-up scenarios. She was happy then and could escape the constant aching. It grounded her when the pain became unbearable.

Her father planted that young sapling the first time she came home from the hospital. That was thirty years ago, and he was gone and now with him, her tree.

She watched as her brothers helped the tree surgeon hack off the outstretching limbs. With every cut, another piece of her fell to the ground with it.

Tears streaming down her face, the tree gave its last and surrendered.

Now there would be nothing to anchor her next time. But now she could make it permanent.

Just like they had done to the tree.


(138 words)