Tag Archives: flash fiction

Poof! [flash 93]

The madman didn’t pause because tonight was the night. Everything he had planned would come to fruition before the sun rose. Yes, he knew he was moonstruck with the power he had stolen, but the ultimate goal was now within reach and there was nothing to stop him. He reached for the device to broadcast one last final lie to the population that remained in thrall to his every word.

However, from a tiny shed on the edge of the world, the teenaged hacker began the program to stop him.



Snooze Looze

The little girl wanted the black fringed purse with purple and turquoise embroidery, but it was $12, and she hesitated. The next week, all they had left were ugly orange and yellow embroidered ones.


Prompt via Sammi Scribbles

Simmer [99 words]

I use everything in my writing, like a depression era cook. Nothing goes to waste. While juicy bits might be served immediately, scraps and fat are not tossed out, but flung into the pot on a slow simmer. Bones and beaks will be cycled back in somedaywait and see. Feathers float around the stove whispering poems as I stir the plot. Little feet line up on the windowsill awaiting their turn as I sweep broken shells into a corner. Oh, I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done. You’re just lucky my weapon is a pen and not a gun.


Prompt via the Carrot Ranch

Selling Points [flash 123]

“This is a very special property,” Bob the broker told the prospective buyers. “You’re basically sequestered with lots of privacy. Only a tiny percentage of homes have such a large back yard.”

Henry the husband nodded enthusiastically. “I can definitely imagine taking a snooze back here by the tranquil koi pond. Why does the owner want to sell?”

Bob made a sad face. “She decided to move back to Japan. Her husband died suddenly and she wants to be with her family.”

“I love it!” Wendy the wife exclaimed. She walked around the back yard and stopped at the pond to peer into it. “Oh look, Henry. Their Halloween display must have fallen in. It’s a man with a knife in his back.”


Photo prompt and the words Japan, tranquil, and koi provided by The Haunted Wordsmith.

Shopping Cart Soliloquy [flash 221]

The woman adjusted her coats and walked around behind the park bench where she’d just spent the night. She yelled across the grass, “Get out! You don’t belong here!”

But the man walking his dog was too far away to hear her.

The woman didn’t like dogs. Or cats. Or little children. They were mean and stared at her. Sometimes they touched her cart. Grownups knew not to do that. She made scary faces at the kids in hopes they would quit coming near her. She didn’t need any trouble.

She rearranged the bags in her cart so they were in a pattern that pleased her. Then she began to talk, at first in a mutter and then louder:

“No one knows, but we will orchestrate the dance. We will choose our own music and it will be beautiful! There will be roses and cakes. And everything will fall down. Then they will see. We won’t be silent forever. Not when the music begins. They will be naked and they will listen to us!”

A young woman jogged past, and the older woman gripped her cart and screamed, “You will listen when the houses fall! You won’t ignore us when you’re lying in the mud with the dogs!”

But the jogger had earbuds in and missed the entire Shopping Cart Soliloquy.


Random pic of bird in HB Central Park.

Snack Time [flash 100]

“What’s this word?” Honey asked.

Mosaic,” Sugar replied.

Cocoa laughed. “Bears can’t read! It’s not feasible. We don’t have the right skill set.”

“Reading is the farthest thing from my mind,” Honey said. “I’m trying to find a recipe.”

“Those yummy cookies the family had last week?” Sugar sniffed the air as if she could already catch a whiff of baking.

Honey rubbed her tummy. “Yes.”

“Sorry to disrupt the fantasy,” Cocoa said. “But this isn’t a cookbook.”

The bears were sad for twenty-seven seconds, but then they forgot because they were bears. Also, they ate the book.

The End.


Inspired by a photo from The Haunted Wordsmith.

PS: To nitpickers, I know the diff between further and farther, but these are bears, so give them a break. 🐻

Revenge of the Lost [flash 600]

Melanie didn’t like Labyrinth Laundromat. It was dark and gave her the creeps. Why did the lights keep flickering? Oh well, she had no choice in a new town without a car. At least this place was right next to her apartment building. She took out the romance novel she’d brought and tried not to think about the shadows in the back of the laundromat.

Finally the washer finished, and Melanie jumped up to put her wet clothes in a dryer. No need to hurry: she was alone in here. But that made her feel even more creeped out. She noted that all the dryers had tape over the coin slots except the very last one, the one farthest from the door.

She quickly stuffed her clothes in the dryer, put in coins, and started up the machine. It was so cold and damp back here. Smelled like mold and ashes. Yuck! The dryer sputtered and made a strange yowling noise, like a cat in heat.

“Yikes!” Melanie said, glancing around. She wished someone else would come in to do laundry. Too nervous to read now, she paced in front of the dryers as the one in use creaked and groaned.

“Only forty minutes more,” Melanie muttered, hugging her arms around her torso, trying to reassure herself.

Then the lights went out completely.

“PSSST,” someone said. “Why did you abandon me?”

“Who’s there?!” Melanie shouted.

“Just me.” A fluorescent light flickered on overhead to illuminate a sock on the floor. It was black with multi-colored toes.

Melanie had a vague recollection of having a pair of similar socks back in junior high.

“You left me behind the dryer with spiders and crickets. That was mean. I hate you!”

“What?” Melanie decided she must be hallucinating. It was probably from that weird tea she drank after dinner.

“And me!” A frilly white sock with tattered lace trim dangling off materialized next to the other sock. “I went to your confirmation and then you let Buster chew on me.”

“I was a little kid!” Melanie objected. “That wasn’t my fault.”

“What about us?” random mismatched socks fell all around her. “You left me at the stinky gym. You dropped me in the street and I got run over by a car. You never tried to find me. You never cared about my mate. You forgot me at your nasty boyfriend’s house and now I smell like smoke.”

Melanie couldn’t keep up with all their accusations. She stopped answering as they literally rained down on her, thirty years of lost and abandoned socks spilling their grief and anger onto her. She figured they’d be done venting soon and she could go.

But then she noticed they were looping together into a chain and making a circle around her. “Hey, what’s going on?” she said, panicking. She tried to run, but it was too late.

The socks quickly knotted themselves and moved up to Melanie’s waist. Then they yanked her to the far corner of the laundromat, where the floor sloped down.

“Stop!” Melanie yelled, but the linoleum back here was so slippery, and she lost her balance, falling, and sliding down down down with the rope of socks. She screamed at the demonic images she glimpsed along the walls as her descent twisted downward faster and faster…


Toby didn’t like this laundromat. It gave off a bad vibe. Oh well. He put a load in the washer and sat down to wait. Someone had forgotten their book: Love’s Wicked Flames. He rolled his eyes. Chicks and their dumb romance novels. The lights flickered.


The Hocus Pocus Writing Tag

The Haunted Wordsmith tagged me with these Hocus Pocus related writing questions. I encourage all NaNoWriMo participants to grab ’em and play along!

1. Sarah, Mary & Winifred Sanderson: Being a witch is hard, but so is writing. If you had magical, witchy powers, what aspect of writing or what part of the process would you magically skip over?

– The part where I decide that my idea is trivial, boring, and waaay too complex all at the same time, so I abandon it for another idea that has exactly those attributes. 🙄

2. Max and Dani: What relationships tend to be at the core of your books? Friends? Family? Romance?

– Romance, even when it’s not a “romance novel” per se. 💕

3. Amuck, Amuck, Amuck!: How do you approach the chaos that is drafting? Are you a plotter, a pantster, or a combo of both?

– Generally, I am a pantster, though I have most of a plot in my head the whole time. Sometimes I will make notes for a few chapters ahead. Occasionally, I need more detail, if it’s important to keep dates exactly right, as in my current NaNo WIP. I never create anything remotely resembling a traditional outline, yucky. 😖

4. I Put a Spell on You: How do you deal with book ideas that want to pull your focus from your main WIP?

– Create a new folder with notes for later. Or, if the new idea is a billion times better, just start working on that one. It happens!

5. Thackery Binx: Things aren’t always what they seem–Think back to when you first started writing to where you are now. How has your process transformed from then to now?

– I had a hard time envisioning a complete novel back then. I could only imagine short scenes and bits of dialog. Consequently, after a few pages, my stories drifted into nothingness. Now, I haz visions. 👀

6. My Lucky Rat Tail: Do you have a writing ritual? If not, what are some of your favorite writing tools?

– I don’t have rituals, but I need uninterrupted quiet time when I’m not feeling stressed out in order to work on a novel. I can write poetry and flash fiction with less restriction.

7. Boooooookkk: Favorite Writing Craft Book?

– Probably On Writing by Stephen King.

8. Another Glorious Morning: Do you enjoy writing in the morning? Or do you prefer the evening, like Winnifred?

– It depends on the day. I used to love getting up early to write, but that doesn’t seem to work well for me these days. I have been writing more at night. 🌙

9. The Black Flame Candle: What’s one of the biggest mistakes you’ve made so far in your writing journey? OR What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned?

– Trying to write crap for money, and then hating it and not making money besides. (Not talking about romance novels ~ imo mine are good and I enjoy writing them.)

10. Billy Butcherson: What’s a trope that most people hate, but you love and would like to see “come back from the dead”?

– Idk what “most people” hate. People sneer at romance novels, yet they sell like mad. Certain romance tropes that I hate (we should only be talking about me, yes?) are: vampires, shapeshifters, twins, having to get back with your ex to solve a crime because he is the only cop on the planet, returning to your hometown and the studly guy from high school who never got over you even though you ran off like a crazy yada barf. 🤮

11. Come Little Children: Songs that give you a “hypnotic” focus when writing? I.e., fav songs on your writing playlist.

– WHY ARE THERE ELEVEN QUESTIONS AGAIN? This is too much of a coinkydink and I am calling conspiracy! What’s that bubbling noise…

Dragons in Disguise [flash 158]

The mischief-maker chuckled. This particular escapade he called “the carrot and the shtick” — a treat, a trick, a prize, and then an avalanche of troubles.

“Bwahahaha!” His shoulders shook with mirth. How he loved playing these gory games on unsuspecting victims who fell for it every time. They were always so trusting!

He knew he was supposed to help these poor people, not consider them his opponents, but he was weak, and that wasn’t his fault. He blamed his father, who had hardly paid any attention to him and let him play video games all day and night. Now, each new call for assistance was a chance to slay another dragon in disguise!

There came a knock, and another mischief-maker stood in the doorway with an identical shine in her eyes.

“Hey, friend, ready for lunch?”

The two naughty cohorts sauntered off, chattering and giggling about their morning’s work, as they passed by their departmental sign:


Manifestation [flash 180]

At first, it was just an abstract concept, something she merely fantasized about during the humdrum of daily existence. But on one particularly dull afternoon, she began doodling some approximate calculations, and she experienced a surge of sharp joy when it appeared that her darkest dream might have a chance to become real.

Every night for seven weeks she worked on her creation with focused diligence, forgoing sleep and food, as she refined her plans to sublime perfection. Finally, the manifestation of her deepest desire was complete. She gazed at it in awe. But of course it wasn’t really finished until it was shared.

She invited someone over she hadn’t seen in a long time. He was surprised to hear from her. She told him she had a surprise for him. When he saw what she had built, he gasped.

“I should have known you were planning something like this,” he said.

The fear in his voice excited her, but also frightened her a bit. Could she go through with this?

Well, it was too late to back out now.


Apologies, I saved this photo from a prompt a while ago and didn’t use it until now, but I’ve forgotten whose prompt it was. My bad!