Category Archives: Flash Friday Fiction

“The Wizard of Ice”
Margaret Locke (@Margaret_Locke)
258 words

He had waited a thousand years for this. A thousand years to return to his rightful position as King, to seek retribution from Mordred, to sit at his Round Table with his faithful knights at his side.

“When the north star aligns exactly over Guinevere’s Tower, you shall return,” Merlin had promised on that fateful day so long ago, before sending him across the Lake to Avalon. “The Lady of the Lake shall greet you. Banners will wave in your honor. The whole of the land will rejoice in the coming again of the Once and Future King.”

Arthur looked out across the barren landscape, illuminated now by a supernatural glow. He was surprised to realize it emanated from his own chainmail, chainmail that felt like ice against his skin. He clasped his beloved sword Excalibur firmly in his hand, ready to face any peril. But there was nothing. What was once a lake was now a frozen wasteland. Flags stood all around, as Merlin had foretold, but were planted haphazardly in no apparent order in the snow. And what had happened to his magnificent keep? Where were the grand stone archways, the turrets, the lists? What was this heap of metal more suitable for scrap than a King’s castle?

Where were his men? He saw no Lancelot, no Gawain, no Percival. No Guinevere.

A familiar, if rusty, voice spoke from his side. Arthur turned to look at his friend, surprised now by the wizened, ancient visage before him.

“Arthur, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Camelot anymore.”

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Let me know what you think! And why don’t you join me in this delightful weekly flash diction contest?

The Runt – Margaret Locke
(210 words)

“He’ll never make it,” they said the day I was born. “Too small. Too weak. Might as well let him go now.” I proved them wrong, scrapping my way into this life whether it wanted me here or not.

“He’ll never make it,” they said the day I got the diagnosis. “We give him 3-6 months; maybe more with chemo.” The endless nausea, the bone-wearying fatigue – so many days I just wanted to hang my head low and give up, give in, and go off to that happy romping ground in the sky.

“He’ll never make it,” they said three years later, the day we set forth to climb this mountain.

Yet here I am.

My eyes look out over God’s grandeur, at the lush vegetation scattered amidst sharp, unforgiving rocks. The clouds are below us – below us! Who’d have thought that possible? – and the sky above is such a rich cerulean blue that I want to leap for the sheer joy of being alive.

I’ve conquered it all. I’ve conquered them all.

I reach down and pet Max, my faithful companion. He bounds ahead, ready to meet any challenge.

I smile as I take the next step forward. There’s still fight in this old dog yet.

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Let me know what you think! And please join us at Flash Friday Fiction – none of us bite (except for the dragon), and it’s a lot of fun!

“Somebody’s Watching Me”

I didn’t mean to. It’s just that it’d been a really bad day.

My brother told me if I licked the outside railing, it would taste like a snow cone because of all the snow we got last night, so I did, but the only thing I got was a stuck tongue and the taste of blood in my mouth as I ripped myself loose. Why doesn’t mom ever yell at HIM?

Then when I went to get a drink at school that creepy snowman was smiling at me, just like our neighbor Mr. Jenkins, who wanted to show me his toy soldier collection this morning, but when I went into his house he was wearing a bathrobe and he touched the parts that mom says only the doctor can touch. He says I can’t tell anyone.

Dad says they’ll clean the puke up.

But the snowman will always know.

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Word limit this week for the Flash Friday! Fiction contest was 150 words. Let me know what you think!

“Free Falling”

The wind whipped so fiercely it nearly tore the photo from his grasp. He looked at it one more time, longing for when his father used to throw him like that, the blind faith he had felt even as frissons of fear snaked through his limbs. Dad had caught him, though, every time.

That innocence was gone now. His father hadn’t been able to save him from everything. The broken heart. The drugs.

Tucking the picture into his pocket, he peered over the ledge. Dad seemed so far away.

“I love you, dad,” he shouted. Closing his eyes, he jumped.

He waited as long as he could before pulling the ripcord, relishing the air rushing against his body, making him feel alive in a way he hadn’t felt in forever.

Below him he could see his dad’s chute. Above him he could see the heavens, a clear expanse of new beginnings.

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Let me know what you think of my entry in this week’s Flash! Friday Fiction contest. Word limit this week was 150 words.

Also, do I get bonus points for such an alliterative post title?