Category Archives: Flash Friday Fiction

The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same…
Margaret Locke (@Margaret_Locke or http://margaretlocke.com)
160 words

Heavens above, will she ever stop this caterwauling? Edith stared at the moon outside the window, which hung heavy in the sky. Much like her head in the face of all this histrionic grief.

The hands holding hers gripped ever tighter. “Why doesn’t he love me, mama? I want him to love me!” a muffled voice wailed. Tears dampened Edith’s skirt.

“Oh, child. You are too young to speak of love.”

“You were seventeen when you married papa!”

Edith sighed. The sobbing increased. “You just don’t understand!”

Oh, I do. More than you will ever know. She thought of the shimmering ball gown she’d worn that night, of the heated whispers, the walk in the garden…She’d been young once, too.

Her face grew wistful as she gazed at the bright orb in the sky. Oh, to be seventeen again. Smoothing her hand over her daughter’s hair, she waited for the tears to subside.

Thank God I’ll never be seventeen again.

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This week’s challenge: combine this photo prompt with something having to do with coming of age, and spit it out into a story of 150 words, +/- 10. What do you think of my take? What would you have written? Zip on over to Flash Friday to share your own story and read others.

Kindred Spirits – 159 words

She didn’t know how he’d gotten here, out in the middle of nowhere. She didn’t care. She’d loved him at first sight.

She imagined him a magnificent medieval destrier, bequeathed on a valiant knight in honor of his service to the king. A great beast of a war-horse, wearing armor of his own as he charged across the battlefields of Europe.

Or a wild mustang racing across the plains of Wyoming, cowboy on his back and freedom in his nostrils, the mountains of the West framing his flowing mane as he hurled himself forward, ever forward.

What he wasn’t supposed to be was still. Trapped. Frightened. Decaying. Not like her.

Every day she climbed onto his back, closed her eyes, and willed him to break free, to run, to carry her away. Every night she returned home, broken, bridled, chomping at the bit.

They were kindred spirits, she and this horse. Wild animals encased in a permanent prison.

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Isn’t this a wonderful photo? Using it as our prompt, as well as the idea of knighthood, we had 150 words (+/- 10) to come up with a story about it. What do you think of mine?

If you want to read the many other wonderful submissions or enter your own, hop (or trot or canter or gallop) on over to Flash Friday Fiction!

The Naked Truth – 160 words

I want to look away. I want to ignore this photograph, to avoid this cloaked and covered woman. It–she–makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want to offend, don’t want to judge. I want to fall back into humor, want to quip something about “the eyes have it,” or, “the ultimate selfie!”

I can’t. My eyes return to hers again and again, and I wonder–even as my insides fume and rage that surely she must feel trapped, constricted, reduced, invisible–if that’s how she sees herself.

Who is this woman? What is her life really like? Is she a prisoner of her own religion, her own culture, her own history, the way we Western women assume she is? The way we assume we aren’t? Or is there freedom in the hiding? Is there peace in the acceptance?

I don’t know her truth. I don’t even know my own truth. All I know is, this photo makes me nervous.

Because her eyes are smiling.

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Each week for Flash Friday Fiction we’re given 150 words (+/-10) to craft a story in response to a photo prompt. This go-around we also had to include the word/concept of “knowledge” in some way.

You want honesty? I didn’t know what to do with this picture. I didn’t know if I could write something coherent, whether funny or serious. I briefly considered not writing at all. The deep-seated people pleaser in me didn’t want to potentially offend anyone.

But is silence the proper response to things which leave us anxious, unsure, uncomfortable, frozen?

I opted for truth over fiction today. The character above, the Western woman, is me. Is she you?

The Tracks of Time – 160 words

It always comes back to this. This place, that time, those memories.

No matter how far I go, no matter how fast I flee, I’m drawn back here, time and again. A moth to the flame, a half to its whole. Two sides of the same coin.

Age has changed me, changed the landscape, changed reality. Gone are the lush green pastures, the stone, the sword. Gone are the robes, the flowing hair. Gone is the magic.

All lies covered now by a different kind of steel, a different kind of power. A path to nowhere, never changing, forever the same. When the bells ring out, they call people to board, not to prayer.

But I come back, always. For where your treasure is, so will your heart be, also.

Perhaps today you will rise from the belly of the beast. Perhaps today your promise will be fulfilled.

I remain your faithful servant. I am waiting for you, Arthur.

Always.

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This week’s Flash Friday Fiction challenge required us to fit “treasure” into our 150 word limit (+/- 10) in some way. Perhaps because it’s Good Friday in the Christian world, my mind immediately flew to the Bible verse from Matthew, “For where your treasure is, so will your heart be, also.” That, combined with Easter-ly thoughts of resurrection and promise, led me again to the myths and legends that tell of another iconic figure who is promised to return again when our need is greatest.

What do you think of this week’s tale? When I can combine my love for writing with my love for Merlin, I am one happy Flasher.

Er, you know what I mean.

Crossroads – 165 words

“My wife was right. We should have asked for directions.”

“The devil is in the doubting, my man.”

“But we’re not dressed for this.”

“You have gloves on. What’s the problem?”

“I…I…I was supposed to be home hours ago to help my son with his algebra.”

“Oh, come on. Where’s your sense of adventure? It’s not like opportunities like this come along every day.”

“You call wading around in the snow without food, water, or proper outerwear opportunity? I can’t even feel my ears anymore.”

“Good God. You’re such a baby.”

“Fine. What do you see? Are we close?”

“Just over that mountain.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure moving forward beats going backward. The devil is in the doubting.”

He paused for a moment, settling his weight onto his left leg as he squinted into the distance, trying to see the promise his companion saw. He thought of his disapproving wife, his whiny children, his monotonous dead-end job.

“Lead on, Beezlebub. Lead on.”

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Ever have one of those moments where you think you know what you’re doing, only to realize a split second too late that you don’t? Yeah, that’s what happened to me this week – for some reason I was thinking I could go up to 165 words. Nope. The limit is 150, +/- 10. Can you tell I wasn’t a math major?

Well, even though I disqualified myself from the competition before it even began, I hope you enjoy the story. Perhaps you can hop on over to Flash Friday Fiction and show you’re more with it today than I am by submitting your own tale. Within the proper word limit, of course.