Flash Fiction

First Date Nerves

/ michaelwynnauthor / 38 Comments

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

I love this place. The contrasting chrome and plastic. The shiny faux-leather seats. Huh, they’ve got a new bubble gum machine. This is my fried food-smelling world. I need to get a table.
Oh my God, she’s here already, on the high stool at the counter. She’s beautiful.
She’s smiling. Perfect teeth.
Suddenly, I ‘m Charlie Chaplin with blisters, my feet too big and the toes pointing at ten to two.
Oh God, how do I get from here to her?
Act cool, don’t mess it up. Ouch, the corner of that table hurts.
Deep breaths, you can do this.

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

The Mechanic and the Butcher

/ michaelwynnauthor / 49 Comments

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Cyril inspected his car’s repair. “Marvellous, how much?”
“£615.”
“What? It was just a wing mirror!”
“Yes but we had to replace the whole door. To get the colour match, you understand.”
Needing the car, Cyril begrudgingly paid up.
As usual that Saturday, the mechanic entered Cyril’s shop for his weekly steaks.
“That’ll be £615, Sam.”
“But it’s just two steaks!”
“And I’ve had to butcher a whole cow. You can’t just harvest two steaks, you understand.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed, “I can take my business elsewhere, you know.”
“So can I. Who d’you think would be the biggest loser?”

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

Revenge – Justice with Extra Chilli

/ michaelwynnauthor / 31 Comments

I missed last week due to entertaining some friends who, coincidentally were French visitors. So thanks to Sandra for a very welcome and apt prompt. My friends are retired French farmers,  a group notorious for knowing how to use their tractors as weapons of protest.

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

“Now you’re Mayor, you’ve put an extra charge on rubbish collection from our farms.”
“Unfortunately, that’s today’s world, the town can’t afford to come out.”
Giles’ incredulity sunk along with his derriere, into the overstuffed sofa .
He toed the luxurious shag pile and bawled across the huge mahogany desk.
“It can afford these new furnishings!”
“Different budgets. My predecessor let the place slide. A town needs to show the world the right image.”
Back home Giles filled his muck spreader with the contents of his bins and slurry tank.
Outside La Mairie, he set the spreader whirling.
“That’s re-decoration and image!”

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

The Spendthrift

/ michaelwynnauthor / 58 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

Photo Credit: Magaly Guerrero

“More shoes!”
“I need them,” she says
“You’ve dozens and only two feet.”
Paul wondered how often shoes were cited in divorce proceedings.
“We can’t afford them. We’re up to here in debt.” He banged the back of his hand under his chin.
“They were cheap.”
“Cheap? Dog shit’s going for half price at the moment; shall I get a stock in?”
“Now you’re being stupid. If it distresses you, I’ll take them back.”
“The bank’s letters distress me.”
“I’ll take them back, but can I keep the clocks?”
Suddenly, Paul was aware of the loud tick-tock of time running out.

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

It was Only Supposed to be a Bit of Fun

/ michaelwynnauthor / 58 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright Dale Rogerson

An open pizza box, discarded crusts and half-finished cartons of garlic sauce turning rancid, littered the floor.
The room had witnessed too many box-set binges and reeked of sweat and stale duvets.
Kyle tumbled off the sofa, “What happened? I can’t remember anything after series two, episode four.”
He groaned at the debris of drug paraphernalia and empty bottles, his head thumped, his stomach heaved.
He yanked the duvet off his girlfriend, “Lola, wake up.”
The girl didn’t stir, her lips white against the crimson vomit that dribbled from them.
He held her tight, but his hot tears couldn’t warm her.

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

Perfect Resistance

/ michaelwynnauthor / 41 Comments

 

 

 

 

Image courtesy of Jellico’s Stationhouse

The late evening sun seemed to beam approval. Marie-Anne saw a large OK in the shadow of her bicycle wheel and its angular frame, projected on a whitewashed wall.
Antoine sprawled in his chair, eyes closed, legs stretched out in front of him.
He’d been magnificent, so calm as he blew the bridge, killing some of the bastards in the process and avenging her brother’s death.
“Do you want to sleep with me?”
“Because there’s a war on?” He asked, “Would you want to otherwise?”
She smiled and knew she loved him. “Because a perfect day needs a perfect close.”

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

Memories are a Different Place

/ michaelwynnauthor / 49 Comments

 

 

 

copyright © Fatima Fakier Deria

As the feisty tugboats heaved and nudged the great liner into harbour, Henry felt the sun’s heat bounce off the swell, to welcome him back to a port that had known him well.
It was a long time ago, he’d never envisaged returning.
As anchors and hawsers clanked into place, memories as rich as the verdant island vegetation consumed him.
He sighed and returned to his cabin. “It will have changed,” he thought.
“Been spoiled. My friends will be older, maybe dead. They won’t recognise me.”
Sitting by the porthole, he opened a heavy book and awaited the liner’s leaving.

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

The Only Way to be Sure

/ michaelwynnauthor / 50 Comments

 

 

 

Copyright J Hardy Carroll

Helen stood muffled against the wind and dark memories; peering through the iron railings, at the desolate house beyond the naked trees. Rain lingered on the windows like tears on the faces of the bereaved.
She fancied she saw a figure moving inside, a flicker of light tracing its progress. She heard terrifying screams as an evil hand knifed the innocents asleep in each room.
Holding her head tightly against the pain and noise, she asked herself unanswerable questions, “Who was I? Am I really changed?”
Weeping her distrust she raised her hand; this time the knife was for her.

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

The Ramifications of Murder and Parenthood

/ michaelwynnauthor / 53 Comments

Inspector Tandy is my detective creation who features in numerous short stories and one novel to date. This is one of his shorter cases.

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

Inspector Tandy studied the broken fob watch and scanned the field. “Hit so hard it stopped time.”
“And shattered his internal organs,” replied the doctor examining the body.
Tandy ruminated, “Why come here to kill him?” He wandered to the ridge where the field fell away.
A lamb tottered from the dip, its mother bleating alarm. Another movement behind him caused his smile to flip over.
“Get out!” He called to colleagues as he ran, knees pumping and lungs bellowing their finest performance.
Nonetheless, the ram’s horns connected, Tandy sailed over the fence, landing sorely, dignity dissolved but case solved.

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

I Don’t Like Spiders and Snakes but that Ain’t What it Takes to Love You – Jim Stafford

/ michaelwynnauthor / 55 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma

“Your mother can’t get downstairs. She says there’s something on the banister looking at her funny.”
Gerry pulled a slowworm from his trousers and a disgruntled snake from his jacket. Sludge and Sylvia were safe.
He went to investigate. “That’s Kafka, my locust. He’s looking at her funny because he has compound eyes. You see…”
“Skip the optometry lecture, please.”
“Dad, the football’s starting, it clashes with mum’s soap; you sure you want it sorted just yet?”
A bellow boomed from above, “If you have thoughts of eating tonight, squash that bug!”
Dad smiled, “Tempting son, but we’d better cooperate.”

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