Flash fiction is a style of fictional literature or fiction of extreme brevity. There is no widely accepted definition of the length of the category. Some self-described markets for flash fiction impose caps as low as three hundred words, while others consider stories as long as a thousand words to be flash fiction.
Fewer words often tell a better story, I think. So I’ve had a play about with words.
Addicted to Love
I saw, I took, I loved and I lost.
That sums it up really. He was handsome and kind and when he asked me out, I said yes. I took the love he offered. It was good, really good. I drank from him and I waded through a pool of caresses and kisses. I indulged, I supped, I enjoyed.
I became dependant, possessive, needful and addicted. It was too much. No good shutting the door after the horse’s bolted, Granny said. It was one of herf avourite saying and its pity I didn’t listen.
How do you wean yourself from addiction? Time will heal, says Granny and this time I’m trying to listen. It’s hard and it hurts. I’ve cried, I’ve yearned and I’ve learnt.
This was a compilation of shorts I wrote a few years ago.
Albert loved to watch the children play in the school yard. Their voices filled hish eart with happiness, but someone reported him as suspicious. Now all Albert watches is trains.
This was a dream I had, so not all of it makes completele sense. But I think you will get the gist of it. It stuck in my mind because of the shock of what happened at the end. It felt so real.
And The Ship Went Down
I’d gone with a small group of tourists back in time. We were observers and everything around us was in black and white. Just like a film except that we were there.
In the corridor people had spilled out of cabins shouting and pushing to get out. They couldn’t see us as we stood watching like observers.
A woman shouted above the noise, “It’s all right we;re going on again.” Just for a moment the panic subsided and then I realised we weren’t going on, we were going down, and at the same time I realised it, so did they. The ship was sinking!
The panic and bedlam rose up again. People began falling as the ship tilted. Among them were children who were getting trampled in the panic. I could hear each individual scream and it was horrific.
We scrambled to the back of the ship and stood waiting. I could see land not too far off as it tilted and the sea was further away. There was no question of jumping, it was like contemplating jumping off a cliff.
With awful suddenness we realised something had gone wrong, we were going down with it, and the water the rushing towards us, “I don’t like this, I want to go,” I shouted above the noise. This was too real, not what I expected at all!
We began to sing the code word, Red Tomato, Red Tomato, Red Tomato, and nothing happened. The wind rushed in my ears and the people in my party started singing, “We are English, We are English.” Did that matter? What was that for?
Apart the abject terror, there was no time to panic as water rushed up my legs and over my head. I will swim, I thought, soon as I’m under the water, I shall swim away, and back up to the surface.
I didn’t count on the whoosh, and of sucking sensation that sent me turning and spinning. Then I stopped and was floating. I waited for the pain that goes with drowning. I looked across the murky water to see other people who had been sucked down too. Inthat tiny millisecond I realised I didn’t know which way was up and I wasn’t going to get to the surface. Then my breath ran out. I had no choise but to breath in and fully expected it to be sea water. It wasn’t. It was fresh air. I was alive! My eyes opened and it was a dream….only a dream…
When I withdrew the knife, I smiled.
This would be better.
I liked to cook in the kitchen, especially on my own.
It was when I got to the sink I realised the knife still had his blood on it.
A pulse was beating in my temple which exploded into a full blown headache as I saw them come for me. I was taken down a white walled corridor as my stomach churned. I felt sick.
A light above me flickered as hysteria bubbled inside. The door opened and he was standing there waiting for me, a glint in his eyes. I didn’t want to look at the cold, sharp instruments lying on the table. I could smell fear in the room as the blood rushed through my veins and pounded in my ears. For a moment, I thought I was going to faint.
I’d seen others coming out, their faces as white as the walls. Somewherea tap dripped. The bright light above was aimed like a spotlight illuminating the area of kill. Oh god!
Hands were on my shoulders making me lay back and terror consumed me. I caught the sight of ametal hook and broke out into a cold sweat.
A hush descended the room, the only sound was my breathing. A sweet sickly smell swept though my nostrils as goose bumps marched down from my shoulders.
Thank god they had changed it to 12 monthly appointments, as I couldn’tgo through this every time I needed a dentist check up.
I’m 30 and I’m single. Is that unusual? I don’t really care because I am happy with who I am.
I’m Christina; I live alone with my cat, Henry. I’ve had plenty of boyfriends and have a good social life. I love men and always have, but haven’t found the one to settle down with.
Life was good, I have a good job and my own my flat, but last weekend my life turned upside down.
It’s hard to put into words and I’m struggling to come to terms with what happened. My whole life has been thrown into disarray. I don’t know who I am any more. My self-confidence has plummeted.
You see I went to a party. My friend dropped out at the last minute and I decided to go on my own. Lots of people were there and I always find it interesting meeting new people. I’m waffling; I know I am waffling, putting off the moment I have to tell you.
You see, I kissed another woman.
There, I’ve said it. It was a full blown necking session with wandering hands. Every time I think about it, my stomach flips and I go cold. I love men. How could I do that?
I feel sick, indeed I have been sick. I’m not a lesbian, I’ve never thought of another woman that way. I love men. I love everything about them. I love sex – with a man. I’m repulsed at the thought of sex with another woman simply because I’m not gay.
So why did I end up kissing another woman? I don’t know. She liked me. She made all the moves. At first Ithought she was being attentive and naively thought she found me interesting. When she began touching me, I didn’t think anything of it. When I realised she being over affectionate, I knew I’d drank too much, and because I lwas enjoying it. Before I knew what was happening, we were outside. She was smiling at me in a way that was disconcerting. Then she began kissing me, it was passionate, it was nice, my eyes were closed. Then I opened them.
I expected to see a handsome hunk, instead there was a pretty women. I felt let down, and cheated.
My friend told me to chalk it up to experience. She said it happens to most people at some point in their lives. At least, she said, you know who you are now.
But then I always did. I love men.
I See Things
I am a normal ordinary person, or I would like to think that I am. I’ve lived in our house for 18 years and was brought up by a loving family. I’ve never had any problems. That was until recently. Now I see things.
I don’t particularly believe in ghosts. I’ve never seen one, at least I don’t think of what I see as ghosts. If they aren’t, what are they?
Well, they are small, dark blobs I see from the corner of my eyes. Suddenly they run across the room or they run up the walls. When I turn my head to look properly, they’ve gone, escaping to wherever it is they are running to.
Sometimes I think things live in this house, things we never knew were here and living along side us. Now I know they are here, I worry. Where are they when I can’t see them? Why do they dash everywhere and why can’t I see them as they really are?
I hear them at night too, as I lie awake in the dark. I can’t describe the soundt hey make but it is there and muffled in the silence. Where are they in the darkness? Are they crawling up the walls and dashing across the floor? It makes me shiver, and worry as to who else is living in our house with us.
Night Time Cuddles
“Do you know I love you very much,” he whispered.
“That’s very nice.”
“Very nice? What kind of an answer is that?”
“I’m just saying, that’s all.”
“You never say nice things to me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, erm, I told you that jumper looked nice.”
“I’d just bought it.”
“Yes, well, I say other things too.”
“I thanked you for washing up, didn’t I?”
“That doesn’t count.”
She giggled and snuggled closer.
“You’re a crazy woman, you know that?”
“That’s why you love me.”
“I do. Very much. Now go to sleep.”
Mrs Horseface was very angry and I hung my heard.
“Somebody better own up or you are all going to be punished.”
Keeping my head bowed, I moved my eyes to Charlie on the right and Ian and Shaun on the left.
“It was her, miss,” said Charlie.
I looked up sharply in time to see the other boys nod in agreement.
Mrs Horseface turned to me and I shrunk from her stare.
“Right, get out, you three.”
And my so-called friends, didn’t need telling twice. They shot out of the door as I hunched my shoulders.
“You better explain yourself, right now Sophie Clark.”
“Erm, I’m sorry Mrs Horsley, I…I….”
“Yes? I am waiting.”
“I…well, you see….”
“Spit it out,”
“It was Charlie, he made me do it, said as my Dad was a gardener and I should pull them up.”
“Do you realise they were only planted in the spring and they were going to flower in this autumn? They’re not going to flower now, are they?”
“I shall be writing to your mother and father.”
“Oh, no, please don’t do that, miss. I shall put them back.”
“Hold out your hands.”
Reluctantly I did.
My hands were smarting so much when I came out of her office, but that didn’t stop me punching Charlie on the nose.
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