The lovely Rebekah Postupak launched a new tribute to regular Flash Friday contributors recently, namely the Ring of Fire badge.
This badge honors those of us who’ve written for Flash Friday at least three out of four weeks in any given month.
I’m very excited to have earned this badge. In fact, I’m pretty sure that in the time since I started writing flash (fall 2013), I’ve only missed TWO WEEKS. Woot!
Thanks, Rebekah. And thank you to the Flash Friday Fiction community, who make Fridays so much fun, and keep us all coming back, week after week, to read and savor such beautiful short (short!) story writing.
Liverpool — Hope Street. CC photo by Harshil Shah. Sculpture “A Case History” by John King.
Someone to Watch Over Me – 204 words
“No, it isn’t!”
“Yes, it is.”
“Nu-uh!”
“The moon is too made of cheese. How else do you think the astronauts survived up there?”
We’d dissolved into giggles. Sarah had poked me, I’d tackled her, and we’d tussled until mom yelled at us to stop.
I miss that. I miss her.
Nobody will tell me where she’s gone.
“Good riddance,” my step-dad said once, when he thought I wasn’t listening. Mom had pain in her eyes, when she thought I wasn’t looking.
“See that face?”
“What face?”
“The one right there, can you see it? The Man in the Moon?”
I’d squinted, contorting my face, trying to see what she saw. “I see it! I see him!”
She’d ruffled my hair. “Wanna know a secret?”
A secret? From my sister? “Yes!”
“It’s not a man.”
Oh. “Then what is it?”
“It’s me. Watching you, Em. You can’t hide anything from me.” She’d curled her hands into claws and attempted a monster face. It didn’t work. I’d just laughed.
At night, when he comes into my room, I don’t laugh. I don’t even close my eyes anymore. I look out the window, at the moon. She knows. She’s watching over me.
My ancestors were revered in ancient Egypt. In Rome, they threw you to my cousins. In Europe, we made you believe the crazy ladies who hoarded us had magical powers.
We’ve kept the rodent population down for years. You think it serves you. We think of it as lunch.
Now you come at me, all “Here, kitty kitty,” shaking that treat bag.
You plied me with scratching posts, seduced me with chunks of tuna in gravy, hypnotized me with your brushing of my fur.
But I see you for what you really are now. You are evil.
You want to take me to that horrible place, the one with my wailing brethren and, worse of all, DOGS.
You want to let that “doctor” cut off all that makes me who I am, to prevent me from fathering kittens of my own.
I’ll fight tooth and nail to prevent this injustice.
No longer shall I knead your lap for you. No longer shall I make the noises you enjoy. No longer shall I serve to warm your feet in bed.
This week in our 200 (+/-10) word stories for Flash Friday Fiction, we had to focus on character, incorporating a gladiator somehow into our stories sparked by the photo prompt of this adorable kitten. Say what? I’m hoping my kitten’s gladiator attitude came through…let me know what you think.
And please head on over to Flash Friday Fiction to read and comment on the other offerings, or perhaps enter one of your own!
Rain (Liberia, Guanacaste, Costa Rica). CC2.0 photo by NannyDaddy.
The Tracks of my Tears (202 words)
I can forget until it rains. Because when it rains, the red appears. Or reappears, I should say.
They claim it’s just different-colored cement. But I know better. I know it’s blood. I know who’s buried underneath.
It was a moment of rage, of insanity, of desperation, the night I killed my wife and children. Too long without a job, too long without a paycheck, too long without respect.
I’d bathed my sorrows in the last of the gin, her voice echoing around me, taunting me, goading me.
“You’re no man,” she’d screamed. “You do not do right by your family. You are killing us, with your booze and your laziness. Killing us!”
I’d needed to silence the voice, silence the condemnation.
So I had. A gun in the drawer, for self-protection, I’d always said.
I protected myself, all right.
No one saw me. No one knew. I said they’d gone on a trip to visit family, back in the Old Country, and never come home. Knowing me, my failures, my shame, everyone believed.
Only I know they are there, in the soil under the square, hidden there before this had become another vast wasteland of pavement.
This week Flash Friday Fiction has us focusing on theme, namely “a fleeting moment.” Using that idea, plus the photo prompt, we were given 200 (+/-10) words to draft a story. What do you think of mine?
I hope you’ll follow the link above to read and comment on the other entries, or perhaps even submit a short (very short!) story of your own.
He watched his son storm off, all thunder and lightning. Seems it was always that way lately, always gray where he and his eldest were concerned.
When had the clouds come? When had the sun stopped shining? When had the ground beneath them cracked, shifted, to become a barren, parched landscape of lost moments, dying of thirst in spite of the insults and epithets that rained down daily?
Sometimes, just for an instant, he saw him again as a baby, crawling away with such delight, only to turn and cry because he’d gotten too far. Or as a toddler, racing free across the playground, only to demand daddy’s help on the slide or the swings. Even as a grade schooler, his son would come to him, seeking shelter from the bullies.
When had the weather changed?
He wished he had an olive branch to offer, some shade from the storm.
His colleagues assured him these tempests were normal, that eventually all would settle down again, that calm waters would return.
He knew they were wrong. He knew if he couldn’t fix this, couldn’t shore up their crumbling relationship, one day, his son would walk away and not come back.
This week’s required Flash Friday Fiction element was to focus on conflict, specifically a man-to-man conflict, incorporating the photo prompt (literally or figuratively) into a 200 (+/-10) word story. I opted for man-to-almost-man. What do you think of my efforts?
I hope you’ll join us over on the official Flash Friday site, where you can read (and comment on) others’ entries, as well as check out the fabulous tales from weeks past.
The lovely Rebekah Postupak launched a new tribute to regular Flash Friday contributors recently, namely the Ring of Fire badge.
