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


The Magenta diamond of you’ll-be-sorry

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

This week’s prompt provided by Jade M. Wong. 

The magenta diamond of you’ll-be-sorry

Why was there a magenta diamond stuck in the black sand here?

I told Denise not to touch it, now she’s against the wall of the cavern crying that she’s turning into a cat. I’ll deal with that later.

Great, now she fell on me while I was taking photos and I landed chest first on the thing. What even is it?

Not turning into a cat. Great. But my hands are now twice their normal size.

Okay, there’s a gnome sized alien sitting on the diamond thing now, watching us.

Denise has stopped crying, and hasn’t started meowing. I think I can taste that sandwich I had at a small bistro that one time I visited my father. I still don’t like green pepper.

The alien has stopped laughing at us, and has offered to stop the diamond’s affects if one of us will go back with him to his home planet. Anything is better than having eyes all over your arms.

I don’t know if it’s better to be an alien’s side-show attraction/pet. At least I get chocolate pudding and I can see normally again.

(187 words. Sorry!)

It’s supposed to be weird-funny. The boyfriend said it almost reminded him of Terry Pratchett. That’s good right?

Mysterious fox still on holiday.

The permanent cycle

100 Word Challenge

Prompt: Recluse


The permanent cycle

Flower kept to herself. People were draining, and often she found that her interests never sparked much from friends or family.

It was easier that way.

She did what she liked. She worked from home, tucked away in safety and comfort.

It was good.

It was lonely.

Flower would push down the feeling to reach out to another being. Sometimes she was successful. Otherwise she would force on some mascara and a bra, and go down to town only to return exhausted.

Like the eternal crashing of waves on the rocks below her home.

This was her life.

It was her cycle.



Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Prompt provided by Iain Kelly!


How is it possible to be in a helicopter, high above the city one moment, and on an island writing SOS in the sand the next?

I thought I was alone. It turned out that there was another woman on the opposite end who had taken the liberty of building herself a tree-house. I moved in. After several weeks I think I had given up on the idea of ever being rescued. We had the house, there was a fresh bottle of water in the chest every morning and we had all the fish and fruit we could ever want to eat.

I think I realized that I might have been dreaming it all when a fox came and sat next to me. Maybe I was still in the helicopter. Maybe I had crashed and was lying in a hospital bed totally unaware of what was going on.

The fox said I was worrying too much.

We shared a cocktail as we watched new people walk out of the water to live with us on the island.

177 words (oops)

Don’t you dare

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week#156


The weather isn’t behaving as it should…


Don’t you dare

“We need to get to that house.” Mark hurried inside the abandoned house, followed by little sister, Becca, and Rich.

The wind picked up. It whirled and moaned around them. They huddle in the forgotten bathtub.


“Where is everyone?”

Becca’s arms wobbled as she tried to push herself up. She found the front door of the house open.

“Don’t you dare say it,” Mark huffed.

Becca stepped outside. Empty field had been replaced with ruby-red wheat. In the distance there was the gleam of a golden palace. Before them an emerald road. “Where are we?”

Rich stifled a laugh. “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”


My funny little take on The Wizard of Oz. I couldn’t help myself. When I saw the picture it was all I could imagine.

It’s not Oz. It’s… Noz. Registered & Protected 


Five Sentence Fiction

Lillie McFerrin Writes

Link here ->

This week’s word: WAVES




The waves roared and crashed against the wet sand, creeping ever forward to smooth over and claim time and memories left behind.

She would not let him carve out their names; wouldn’t let him leave behind anything, but their foot prints.

He stopped presenting her with shells and smoothed stones; she would only say they belonged to the sea.

She fell in love there, with bare feet in cold water; her heart was torn between her first love of the roaring waters and this man.

The memories of salt air, the setting sun and his warm hands was all that she would take, it was all that belonged to them. Registered & Protected 

The surprise

Mondays Finish the Story

Monday’s finish the story

Link here ->

Finish the story begins with: Hey boys, how ’bout y’all makin’ yer Ma some wind chimes?”


© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

The Surprise

“Hey boys, how ‘bout ya’ll makin’ yer Ma some wind chimes?”

John and Michael lifted their golden heads. Dad held empty cans in his hands; behind him on the table stood paint.

“Why are you talking funny?” Michael asked. He was given the cans. He could smell the fruit.

“I thought you two could make mom something for mother’s day.”

“That was two weeks ago!” Dad always forgot mother’s day. They always had to fix it.

He scratched his chin. “I know, but better late than never, right?”

The boys shared a look. They marched to the table to begin painting.


“What’s this?” mom asked. She held a box oddly wrapped in painted on newspaper.

“It’s from me.” Dad stood behind the boys, smiling.

She took out the surprise. Red Neck Wind Chimes were painted in big, bold letters.

They were hung on the porch. When the wind blew, she would burst into laughter, and dad never forgot mother’s day again. Registered & Protected 


Lillie McFerrin Writes

Five sentence Fiction

Prompt: Changes



Three days passed and on the morning of the fourth there came a knock on the door that pulled me from uneasy sleep.

A lumbering man with thick arms like trees and hard eyes, came inside followed by the still gracefulness of the king.

I sat dumbfounded against the now warmer walls of my corner as this mountain started speaking. I could understand every beautiful word from his scarred lips.

“The king has been making changes. You will no longer be executed.”


Follows the post Isolated Registered & Protected 

Before the king

April 7 2015 Writing Prompt 100 Words

Velvet Verbosity‘s 100 word challenge

Prompt: Indulge


Before the king

I had closed my eyes, waiting for teeth to rip through my flesh and indulge in my blood.

I opened my eyes (against my better judgement) when all I felt was hot breath against my cheek.

He stood in a statuesque state once more. Only his eyes moved. They darted back and forth, up and down. Was he trying to sense danger in me? How would I communicate that I wasn’t a threat? I was merely trying to observe his people?

Moving my arms were useless, but as best I could, I lifted my hands and held them up in surrender.


Follows this post: King of Obsidian Registered & Protected 

Monday’s finish the story

Mondays Finish the StoryMondays Finish the Story

Finish the story begins with:Pizza anyone?”


© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

“Pizza anyone?” Mary-Sue’s voice rang.

When there came no answer, she turned to scan over the tired, defeated faces of her team. The match had been tough on everyone, including the coach. She closed her eyes, thinking of how her girl’s had been set up to play against the most mature ten-year-olds she had ever seen. Frankly, she was afraid for them.

It was a bloodbath. No amount of happy sunshine or sips of her ‘special’ coach-juice, could rectify the day. They lost five to nothing.

A little hand reached up and tugged on her shirt. Natalie had a large bruise where the soccer ball collided with her forehead. She went down hard.

“I’ll have a slice, mama,” she said, softly. Mary-Sue slid a hot slice onto a paper plate for her.

Soon the others came up to the table. At least a little pizza could lift their spirits.