Category Archives: Flash Friday Fiction

Brotherly Love (155 Words)

Echoes of his past life drew him there today.

No sounds had disturbed the air. He was accustomed to silence now, but then it had been deafening. Or perhaps just he had been rendered senseless. Unable to hear. Unable to see. Only able to lash out in hopes of striking something, anything, that would resonate, that would make him feel.

That day it had been a throat. His brother’s throat. It had split instantly, forever dividing his world between before and after. His brother’s eyes had burned his as he’d fallen. No judgment, only acknowledgment.

He had new brothers now. He’d sought forgiveness; it had been given. He’d sought absolution; he had found it.

Birds sang in the trees. The wind whispered in his ears. But in his heart he only heard one voice, the voice of his brother: “Peace be with you.”

“And also with you,” he answered. He bowed his head, giving thanks.

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“The Wanderer” – 319 Words

The sadness settles across my shoulders like an old familiar coat. Like a yoke around my neck. Like the cross I have to bear.

I bring destruction wherever I go. It’s followed me through millenia, since the dawn of time.

Atlantis. Pompeii. The Great Fire of London. The Titanic. The list goes on and on.

I thought this time was different. It’d been twenty years. Twenty years of peace in this tiny village, so remote, so removed from the rest of the world. I thought maybe, just maybe, she had forgotten, had forgiven. Maybe, just maybe, I’d atoned for my sins.

I’d risked it; I’d settled down, had a family. Now they, too, lie beneath the sand that had enveloped them in a flash, like so many before them.

This was my fault. Mine.

I’ve tried to hate. Tried to ice myself out. Tried to live alone. But the drive has always been stronger, the hunger beyond my control.

She made sure of that, on that mountain top an eternity ago. It was the price I had to pay for taking her, for seducing her, for rejecting her.

“You will sow only pain, reap only sorrow. You will pray for death. It will not come for you.”

This is my curse; to seek love knowing I can never have it. To find love knowing I can never keep it. All the while knowing whoever gets close…

I can’t voice it, can’t warn them. Can’t control it. I cannot stop the liquid words from pouring out of my mouth, cannot control the intoxicating magic emanating from my eyes. They’re like moths to the flame.

I am a magnet, attracting those I should repel and repelling those I should attract.

Bring me the monsters, the murderers, the depraved, the wicked. Not these innocents, time after time.

I am The Wanderer. I get around. But this is nothing like the Dion song.

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What do you think? What story would you have written for the photo prompt above? Why not give it a whirl at Flash! Friday Fiction?

Nobody knew how the bridge had gotten there, how whoever built it had managed to lay the stones without falling into the abyss below. Maybe they had. Nobody knew who’d built it, even – Slaves? An army? Merchants desperate to spread trading routes? Nobody knew when it had been built. It seemed timeless, eternal in its stone-faced presence. Nobody knew its secrets.

I knew one, though. I knew, as I watched from my narrow window in this tall tower, that no one would ever rescue me. I’d watched them try – watched them storm out of the blackness of that cave, all mad fury and hopeful hungering, only to be stopped time and again by the flames from the dragon’s mouth. I’d heard them wailing as they fell, burning, to their deaths. I knew. I knew this bridge connects nothing but men to failure, and me to lifetimes of solitude.

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This week’s challenge was to write 150 words, exactly. What do you think? See the other contest entries at Flash! Friday Fiction.

“A Rusted Development” – 257 words

It was Herbie who’d gone on to all the acclaim, Herbie who’d gone Bananas, who’d gone to Monte Carlo, who was known as the Love Bug. It was Herbie who’d achieved fame and fortune.

But it was Herbie’s grandmother who had launched it all: the drive for success, the revving to explore, the gunning of the engines to make something of herself. It was Herbie’s grandmother who’d transported first Jews escaping from Germany, then Nazis on grand parade (she’d blown a spark plug in protest, but it hadn’t been effective for long, since they’d had mechanics on stand-by for just such a situation). So she’d frowned the entire length of the route, hoping the creepy mustachioed man would fall out of the open-aired VW ahead of her. No such luck.

Later she’d become the “in town” vehicle, the one used to drive the kids to school but not across the country. She’d longed for the open road, flying along the Autobahn, feeling the wind against her fenders. But her chassis had started aching and occasionally her belts felt squeaky, so it was with gratitude that she’d lumbered leisurely through city streets, suffering the indignity of ice cream dripping on her seats.

Now look at her. Relegated to a field. Oh, the little boy she’d chauffeured as a child kept promising he’d restore her to her former glory, but she knew better. She was O.K. with that. There was still Herbie, after all. She just wished he’d tone it down a bit. Kids these days were such show-offs.

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I really did write this one in a flash, since I’m supposed to be packing for London, but I’d love your feedback anyway. 🙂 And please come join us at Flash! Fiction Friday – you can read the very entertaining and varied takes on the same prompt, and maybe give crafting a small story a whirl yourself.

“You’re sure this is going to work?”

“Yes, positive. I’ve done it a million times before.”

“So I just have to look at you and think hard? That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it. Stare deeply into my eyes and frown. The frowning is the most important part.”

“Why’s that?”

“The frowning shows you’re serious about this whole endeavor. Laugh, and the gods won’t grant you your request. Also, crinkling your eyebrows helps.”

“O.K… But I’m having a hard time keeping a straight face just looking at your nose. It’s the… it’s the biggest nose I’ve ever seen.”

“You don’t become a master of this without sacrificing a little beauty for the art. Now shut up.”

“O.K., O.K., I’ll be quiet. Look, here’s my serious face.” Silence reigned for about five seconds. “But honestly, have you ever LOOKED at your nose in the mirror? It’s freakin’ huge!”

The master heaved a big sigh. He glared at the peon before him. They were always like this, the good-looking ones. Shifting his fingers up into the joker’s hair and pressing deeply into the skull, he grinned inwardly. Mock me now, handsome man. I’ll be the one laughing tomorrow.

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Voila! There it is! The Flash Friday Fiction you’ve been waiting for! Let me know what you think.