Tag Archives: flash fiction

Her Favorite Show

When I first got home the TV was one. Probably one of mom’s favorite shows. But I couldn’t find her. She wasn’t on the sofa and she wasn’t in the living room.

As I traversed through the mess of clothes and old food on the floor, I still couldn’t find her. I was yelling her name and running up and down the stairs. Still nothing.

I finally thought to look out back. Maybe she’s in the garden again. I made my way back down the stairs. I entered the kitchen and opened the back door.

I began to walk the grounds. She had so many beautiful plants.
Her roses.
Her petunias.
Her tomatoes.
Her hand.

Wait, Her hand?! Sure enough, right there squished between two ripe tomatoes was her severed hand. I could see where her wedding ring used to be. But the question is, was it stolen, or did she take it off before hand. Hand… oh god. Why did I use that phrase.

I kept going to try and find more body parts. I found an ear, an ear of corn. Then I found her actual ear. Strange. And right there, mixed with all her lettuce was her head, just smiling up at me. Her eyes closed.

“Oh mom, why? What happened?” Right as I asked I felt a cool steel slide into my spine. Sharp but smooth. I could feel my blood running down my back. I dropped to my knees and fell forward. I tried to turn to see who it was but there was no one.

The last sight I saw before I died was my mom’s face. Just smiling back at me.

“It’ll be ok now sweetie.”


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The Blue, The Red, The Green.

This was supposed to be up yesterday for the 30 Day Blog Challenge. So here it is now:

His stomach turned in tumbles and fits. Beads of sweat collected on his forehead, some fell from the tip of his nose. He readied his cutters, but with shaking hands he wasn’t truly ready. The blue, the red, the green. All wound tightly around each other. He took the group in his hand and untangled them ever so carefully. He was going to stop this thing, whether he died in the process or not.

His eyes were focused, pupils as big as the moon. He breathed heavy and harsh, trying not to put any extra tension on the wires. His ear piece was already on the table. Too much chatter to concentrate. All that mattered was the device in front of him. The timer moved quick, yet felt slow in the same breath. Continue reading


Filed under 30 Day Blog Challenge, Fiction

The Abominations Next Door

She clutched her head, a dreadful noise ringing through her ears. The only time she’d come this close to wanting to die before was when Bobby Jay threw gum in her hair on the school yard.

Infuriating racket, coming from the abominations next door no doubt. Always out for trouble. Never missing a moment to catch a ball right in her flowers. Her short blonde hair scrunched under the pressure of her hands.

This was her final tipping point. Her pot was full and she was ready to boil. With a swig of her juice she strutted out the front door and to the neighbor’s house.

Her knuckles were red. Two minutes knocking and not an answer. Finally though, the door opened and out came Mrs. Hampton, the mother of the two sewer rats she kept as sons. Continue reading

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The Broken Wagon

A prompt inspired by Taylor Eaton on Twitter.

There wasn’t anything more that could be done about the broken wagon wheel. The broken venture. The broken marriage. Marie Fanturn was a simple farmer’s wife. She cooked, she cleaned, and she kept the kids from killing each other. Tiger Fanturn on the other hand was anything but simple. He never truly had a passion for farming. He just stuck with the family business to keep his own family a float.

The farm was old and had not much land left. They had just a few cows and only enough horses to pull a wagon. Their crops were suffering from the draught and their marriage was suffering from their lack of communication. Not to say Marie didn’t try, it was rather that Tiger was out most nights after farming his land at the local watering hole.

That is where he came up with the great idea to head west. Follow the front runners and become one of the richest men in the gold rush. He had it all planned out. They’d sell the farm and supplies to stock up on food and then take the journey out to the west territories. It didn’t matter if they would fail, it didn’t matter that the farm was their only income. All that mattered was finding that gold and striking it rich. Continue reading


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A Better Man

So, I’ve had to do two prompts today because I slept through most of yesterday. The prompt/story I posted before this was to write about “Guilty Pleasures”. This one is to take my iPod, put it on shuffle, and write down the first ten songs. This will get interesting as I don’t have many songs on my iPod. This also might be interesting, because as a writer I’m not just going to post ten songs and be done with it. I’m going to write something about all ten. I’m thinking a short story incorporating all of them.

1. Better Man
2. Don’t Trust Me
3. A Bird Without Feathers
4. That Power
5. Do The Right Thing
6. It Ends Tonight
7. My World Is..
8. Difference
9. No Matter What You Do
10. Good Vibes

All I ever got told my whole life was to be a better man. To do this and do that right. I would reference my father and say, “Well what about him? He left us, he never cared? He wasn’t that ‘Better Man’?” My mother would just say that he didn’t do anything right, or that the only thing he did right was making me. A bunch of bull shit if you ask me, but maybe I’m just cynical after all these years. Don’t trust me, trust me, whatever. I don’t care. Continue reading


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The Thief of Belgram

My breath was warm. Its haze shown through the light being cast on my face. The only light on the whole street and it had to shine down upon me. It’s not every day you try to break into a store on main street. Low light would be ideal here.

I crept through the streets the rest of the way, being mindful to stay out of the glow this time. My ears kept close to the night, wary of any unusual noise. The only peep was that of a rather unhappy cow in a field not a few yards up a hill. I shrugged it off and made my way forward.

The streets were empty, wind carrying a silent bliss through the air. Every townsfolk was in bed, or gone. Holiday had come early this year and not one younger than thirty would have stayed in this dump for that long. Well not one but me. Continue reading

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The Boots and The Trees

A cloud of fog circled his feet. He looked down and took as deep a breath as his lungs would allow him. He’d been running for what felt like hours. It was dreadful. He had no idea who or what was chasing him at this point, he just knew he had to keep going. If he dare stop for a moment longer, it would surly engulf him.

He knelt for only a moment, peering through the haze and admiring his boots. He rubbed off some scuffing and rose to his feet. The whole reason they were chasing him and he damn near marked them already.

He continued running, faster and faster, ducking branches and dodging around trunks. He wouldn’t let his legs stop him now, no matter how uncomfortable the boots were. The latches and laces were far too loose for feet that size, but he had to have them none the less. He could see a clearing ahead, but heard the monster behind him. It sounded like the whole forest was falling down and being crushed under heavy steps. Continue reading

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