Flash Fiction

Away with The Fairies for a Moment

/ michaelwynnauthor / 38 Comments

I’d just like to mention Iain Kelly’s new novel, The Justified State. I’ve just finished reading it and I’ll put up a proper review on Amazon later but in the meantime I thought I’d let you know, I thoroughly enjoyed it and would recommend it to any of you contemplating buying it.

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Under the bypass isn’t beautiful but there is calm and seclusion. Its ugliness precludes people coming there. The rumbling traffic above comforts Will; it’s the song of the throng that can’t reach him there.
He leaves his anxiety up there in the bustle, traded in for snatched contemplation.
Down here, he rests and dreams. His mind adorns the smutted concrete edifice with verdant, sprawling ivy and bougainvillea, the stagnant water becomes a silver stream with jumping rainbow fish, and Richard Dadd’s fairies buzz from flower to flower, milking the nectar.
Short as they are, Will treasures his idyllic lunch breaks.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

The Face in the Wood

/ michaelwynnauthor / 50 Comments

It is with great pleasure, I announce another long awaited, (in our house) addition to the family. We now have an ISBN number and my novel is launched, available to those interested, for pre-order on Amazon now.

Modern slavery is a burgeoning issue in Britain today but high up in his Canary Wharf office, Julian Ashton is oblivious to it all…that is until he steps away from the bank and finds himself unwittingly embroiled in the sordid underbelly of modern society.
When you’re a banker by trade, you’re going to need help fighting gangsters but with the police unable to act, Julian only has the local tramp to turn to.
Somehow, they must find a way to save a group of young women from the clutches of a violent people trafficker.
Their efforts to adapt and survive would be comic, if there wasn’t so much at stake.

And now for the reason we all come here, 100 words based on the following fantastic prompt supplied by © J.S. Brand 

Griff didn’t interact, he wasn’t good at articulating or expressing himself, other than when he sat at night, carving totems into logs by the light of the fire.
There was never a plan; he let the wood dictate where the blade went. Usually, the result would be a woodland creature or plant but today, he carved a face.
A face staring evilly at him. The face of the monster fleeing, the day Griff found the girl’s dead body.
Never happy with the description he’d supplied, he bagged the log, hefted it onto his back and headed for the police station.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

 

The Stranded Airmen

/ michaelwynnauthor / 45 Comments

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold

“Darling…” The sun striking the chess pieces explodes against his cataracts and he hears again the strident voices he’d heard constantly down the years.
He freezes; Yveline holds him down. Her eight-year-old brother screams insults at the soldiers, like a bird trying to lure a predator from its nest.
“They’re searching the barn,” Yveline whispers. Martin tries to stand.
“There’s nothing we can do.”
Stretching their heads above the corn, they watch the soldiers throw Andy’s limp body on to a lorry.
The boy vainly gesticulates obscenities.
“I’m sorry Andy,” he weeps. “So sorry.”
“Darling…what is it? It’s your turn.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Of Endings, Beginnings and New Trainers

/ michaelwynnauthor / 71 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Jilly Funell

“What’s the matter, son?” Jim asked as he slid the milkshake across the Formica-topped table.
“Autumn is sad, grandad; it’s horrible seeing all the trees cold and their leaves dead.”
“That’s just nature son. Everything has its time and then it all begins again shiny and new.”
“Do we have a time, grandad?”
Wheezing, Jim peered into the darkness of his coffee and saw only the black answer.
“Well that’s a deep, dark subject to consider over a milkshake, son, but either way, you’re the new and shiny, so how about we get on with buying those trainers you wanted?”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here

I’ve been away from FF for a while, mainly due to lots going on here and not having the time to reciprocate comments. The arrival of Freddie was one of the major distractions. He has been fun and so far taught me a lot, which I thought I’d share with you.

What I have learnt in six months since getting a new puppy:
1) There are far more dirty tissues and used baby wipes in the world than I’d ever imagined – because people are dirty.
2) A standard size cardboard box, when shredded correctly will comfortably cover the lawn of an average semi-detached house.
3) Puppies have two bladders. One for the normal everyday requirements and another to greet everyone they meet with their own personal little wee. This second bladder is inexhaustible.
4) A puppy thinks a cat is just another thing to be played with. (They only think this once)
5) Puppies don’t like untidiness and will remove any shoes, tools or other items left unattended for destruction and burial somewhere in the garden.
6) Puppies are useful for getting that ‘dog fur’ finish on any new gloss paint you’ve applied to stairs or skirting boards.
7) Puppies are happy to help you with any chores. At the slightest chink of a tool, your new best friend will be there to protect you from the hoover, climb in to check the dishwasher is safe and defend you from the lawn mower before it can do you harm.

One thing  that is worrying me though…he ain’t never caught a rabbit yet.

 

When All is Done; Nothing Left to Fight

/ michaelwynnauthor / 15 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Leandro had painted his last. He awaited his graduation like all the others; school, college, and marriages; his ultimate release. He lifted a buttock and farted. The adults gasped, the children giggled. “Father!” screamed Millie, the ruddiness of her embarrassment matching his amusement. He beamed, “It’s about as rebellious as this old body will allow me nowadays.”

“These people are here for you father, show some respect.

“They’re not coming with me, so take offence who wants.”

As though to a dear friend who understood, Leandro smiled at a clock ticking its unsympathetic toll, folded his arms and closed his eyes.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

 

The Chicken Farmer and the Mad Vegan

/ michaelwynnauthor / 18 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

I wouldn’t break while there was still blood in my cheeks and he, outside the cage, with the pallor of dried lentils but…
“Now you get to appreciate the overcrowded conditions in one of your stinking cages,” he menaced.
‘Overcrowded?’ What could he mean?
Suddenly, he produced my wife and three sobbing children from outside the room, violently prodding them toward the cage.
“Not my children,” I pleaded; “they’re innocent of whatever you hold me responsible for.”
“The hens are innocent; you kill them after six weeks.” His cackle seared like lightning.
“Muse on that. You have six weeks.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

A Leg up the Ladder

/ michaelwynnauthor / 79 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

A little bit of whimsy this week.

“You’re not trying hard for promotion are you PC Dilley?”
“Well I…”
“What’s the major piece of evidence in this case?”
“A prosthetic leg was left behind, sir.”
“And what do all the suspects you’ve trooped in have in common?”
“Two legs, sir.”
“Exactly, they’ve all got two legs. We hardly need strip searches to determine that.”
“No sir. I just thought maybe the leg was a red herring.”
“You mean planted to confuse us?”
“Yes sir.”
“And consequently this lot are here because…?”
“They all work in the prosthetic limbs factory, sir.”
“My God, Dilley, you’ll make Sergeant yet.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

 

The Lost Light

/ michaelwynnauthor / 68 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The room’s acoustics resonated perfectly; the sparkling new instruments readied for action arranged with OCD precision. Gone were the days of starving for his music and making do. His fingers danced along the frets of a guitar, spewing out a few of his time worn riffs.
‘I’ll lay down the guitar part first; it’ll be like the old days.’
He hummed and strummed his signature tune. Worrying the tuning keys and hazily turning knobs, he smeared a tear across his cheek.
He was waiting for something to come but his mind was a museum, important exhibits but nothing new within.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Hidden

/ michaelwynnauthor / 44 Comments

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

Our old barge nudged the quay.
“Tie us up!” Papa shouted.
I held the rope as though it were something peculiar. ‘Do everything normally,’ Papa had said. Suddenly, I didn’t know what that was but then we’d never hidden an allied airman before.
My eyes tracked across the soldiers and the policeman waiting to inspect the boat.
“You hot?” barked the officer.
“Been cooking breakfast,” Papa interjected, drawing calmly on his pipe.
The officer’s eyes flicked from me to the cabin door; trickling sweat stung my eyes.
“Going north?” he asked, adding impassively, “Might be best to unload before Amsterdam.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Born Free but Chained to Obligation

/ michaelwynnauthor / 85 Comments

I have been a little self indulgent this week. This is an adapted extract from my recently completed novel about a tramp, nicknamed Wordsworth for his quirky,  homespun philosophy and his penchant for reciting poetry in the street. He  guards his freedom jealously but ends up joining forces with a road sweeper to solve a crime of abuse and exploitation.

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT submitted by Courtney Wright. © Photographer prefers to remain anonymous.

It’s hard to determine where the dirty clothes finish and Wordsworth himself begins. Filthy dreadlocks hang from beneath his beanie and his face resembles an unkempt garden, hair sprouting wherever a follicle can get a foothold. His worn boots are held together by string and tape.
I’d seen him about town but was as guilty as the next person of paying him no heed. I offered a pair of my old boots.
“I take those and you’ll start asking things of me. Wordsworth is beholden to no man.”
“But they’re just a pair…”
“No,” he interrupted me, “They’re a contract.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.