What is Flash Fiction? It’s this…

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 love…..

I loved……

I cried……..

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

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…

Cooking

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.

Torture

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.

The Mistake

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.”

“When?

“Well, erm, I told you that jumper looked nice.”

“I’d just bought it.”

“Yes, well, I say other things too.”

“Like what?”

“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.”

Treachery

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?”

“No Miss.”

“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.

Like these? Some and more are featured in The Magic of Stories book. It’s on offer at 99p/c and free to read on Kindle Unlimited.

The Magic of Stories cover (Jon_s MacBook Air)

 

 

Playing the Game

Play the Game is a book by Karen J Mossman and it has a great story.

“He couldn’t take responsibility for me as it was tough looking after himself.”

Blue Girl

This is Stella talking about her dad. All she ever wanted was his love again, but he never recovered from the shock that tore their family apart.

Someone had to be strong and Stella took on that role, always living in hope that her dad would come back to her.

Meanwhile Stella’s own life was non existent as she fought to pay the bills and keep them afloat.

That was until she met Kelly. Taking refuge from the cold in a hotel, there he was and they struck up a conversation.

Dating was never on her horizon and the thought scared her and she almost backed out.

But she went, and knew she had to keep her dad a secret. She never guessed Kelly had a secret of his own.

She found out from the cruel girls as work. Just another way to mock her.

Can Kelly and Stella make it through their secrets?

Read Play the Game to find out!

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Play the Game is an Electric Eclectic novelette and can be read in one sitting. All books are just £1/$1/€1

Lonely Girl

 

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A Stranger on the Train

By Karen J Mossman

#RT #music #shortstory

We all love stories and here is one that has never been shared before.

Screen Shot 2018-10-19 at 10.53.20

Jenna heard the song on the radio and the sweet rawness of the words transported her back two years when she met a stranger on a train.

She was travelling to London to visit Aunt Ivy and running late. She pulled open a carriage door just as the whistle blew. Too late, she realised she was in a first-class compartment and there was a lone occupant inside. He looked up with surprise. “Sorry,” she said, not meaning to invade his privacy. The train lurched forward throwing her into the seat and almost into his lap. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

He was very handsome with the deepest brown eyes she had ever seen.

“It’s okay, as you’re here,” he said. She hadn’t expected to hear an American voice in the heart of England.

Jenna sat down in the seat opposite. The train carriage was small. Outside it was hot and clammy and not a day for travelling. The open window made little difference to the humidity and trying to draw him into a conversation was proving difficult. Giving up, Jenna settled back to rest and fell asleep.

Waking up, she found the train stationery and Nino, as she later learnt, was nowhere in sight. Pulling out a magazine she read the problem page and was part way through someone’s acne breakout when he opened the door. He looked like an Adonis dressed black.

“Hi,” he drawled. “It’s so damned hot in here, I thought we could use a drink.”  He was carrying two cans of cola.

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “Just what I needed.”

“I don’t think the British have heard of air conditioning,” he said as he sat down he pulled the ring off the can.

“Well this weather is unusual,” she replied taking in his square solid chin and small nose. Those deep-set eyes set her heart racing when he looked at her.

“Sure as hell is,” he said taking a long swig.

“Are you on holiday?” she asked.

“I’m working. You?”

“I’m visiting my aunt. I erm…” For a moment she contemplated telling him and then thought, what the heck, he was just a stranger. “I’m escaping a broken romance and my aunt says she has just the remedy for a broken heart.”

For the first time Nino looked interested. “Why would anyone break your heart, honey?”

His eyes softened and the way he called her honey made her pulse quicken.

“Because Pete found someone else who was more exciting and prettier than me, the bastard. We’d only been together two years.” She shrugged. She still couldn’t believe she had meant so little to him. Feeling the familiar lump in her throat, she grinned as if she had said something funny.

“I’m sorry,” he replied sympathetically.

“So,” she said with exaggerated brightness. “My aunt is going to take me out and has promised me a good time. In fact,” she knew she was babbling now, “tomorrow she’s taking me to a concert at the Lords Hall.”

Nino raised his eyebrows, “Lord’s Hall, no kidding?”

“Yeah, you know it?”

“I’m going too.”

“Well, that’s a coincidence! I’ve never heard of the singer which isn’t surprising as my aunt has weird taste in music sometimes but hey, if it gets me out…”

“Sure does. And you never know you might enjoy it.”

“Yeah, bloody singing Eyetie who probably thinks he’s God’s gift to women.” Nino looked amused. “He’s got a foreign sounding name, so I hope he sings in English.”

“He does. His name’s Santario and he’s all right.”

“Thank goodness for that. We have front row seats, so I can hardly sneak out if he is rubbish!”

The journey flew by as they chatted, and Jenna felt a fleeting disappointment when he didn’t suggest they meet up at the concert.

***

Surprisingly, Lord’s Hall was packed. Jenna wondered how so many people had heard of him when she hadn’t.

“You’ll love him, I promise.” Aunt Ivy gushed at Jenna’s scepticism.

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” A disembodied voice announced as the show began. “Please welcome on stage Mr Nino Santario!”

The auditorium erupted into a standing applause as the singer appeared. The only person still seated and not clapping was Jenna. Shocked, she stared at the stranger from the train.

He was wearing all black again, jeans, tee-shirt and a leather jacket with tassels that swayed as he moved. He had talent and Jenna was soon up with the rest of them applauding, dancing and enjoying the performance.

Back in the present, the song on the radio ended. Jenna let the memories wash over her. After three encores, she and Aunt Ivy had been invited back stage. Everyone was vying for his attention, but he only had eyes for her.

Later they had dinner, Aunt Ivy smiled, declining his offer to join them, she had to go home and feed the cat. She didn’t have a cat. After they had eaten Nino asked if she had ever been to a casino, she hadn’t, and it was a great experience.

For his next concert, Jenna had sat in the wings and he was even better close up, especially when every time he came off stage, he kissed her!

She followed him around various interviews and photo shoots. She was even with him when he recorded the songs for his debut album.

Everyone treated him like royalty. They all believed this up-and-coming star would be the next big thing. They treated him with such reverence that even he thought he was royalty at times.

Jenna remembered one radio interview where she sat facing Nino, but behind the interviewer. She decided to give him direction

“And when did you discover you could sing?” asked the man.

Jenna rocked her arms and Nino said. “When I was a baby.”

“Really? That young?”

Jenna put her fingers to her eyes pretending to wipe away the tears and Nino said: “I used to cry in tune.”

“Really?” he said again appearing to believe every word.

Nino looked at Jenna who put her hands together in prayer.  “I used to cry in church.” She shook her head and Nino said, “I mean sing, I used to sing in church.”

The man nodded, “When you were older, of course?” She held up her fingers and Nino said, “Three, when I was three.”

They had laughed so much and as more interviews came, it got sillier. Jenna tried to put him off whenever he was trying to be too serious.

One day, things went too far, and they ordered Jenna out of the recording studio. Nino was up in arms and walked out too. Everyone was in a flurry about wasted recording time and who was footing the bill.

One night in the hotel room after they had laughed about the day’s antics, Nino said. “I love you, Jen.”

She caught her breath, “But you don’t even know me.”

“Honey, I’ve had the best time. That Pete must have been mad.” He kissed her neck and her skin turned to fire. “I knew you were different the moment you walked onto the train.”

“You mean fell on,” she laughed. “And, you didn’t really want to talk.”

His kisses travelling down her shoulders and she groaned.

“I just wanted to look at you,” he said, his hot breath caressing her.

Sighing and unable to resist him anymore, she found his mouth and drew him in.  “Oh Nino, Nino,” she cried, wanting him more than ever.

Picking her up, Nino carried her to the bed where they fell into each other’s arms. Making love to him was an amazing experience, and she didn’t know it then, but it was to be the last time.

***

Now, Jenna stared out of the kitchen window. Their relationship really had been that good. The song faded, and the DJ said, “Nino Santario there, with Broken Dreams, dedicated, he says, to a girl he loved and lost.”

Jenna’s legs went weak, as she felt for the chair. Her heart was still broken for what she’d lost. After all this time, he still loved her!

“And if you want to catch Nino, he will be in Manchester on the 8th and 9th next month. Next we have….”

“Poor Nino,” she whispered out loud. Their affair was all too brief. He had kissed her and said he would see her later. She left his hotel and never saw him again. Later she realised she hadn’t told him anything about herself. All he knew was her first name and that wasn’t even her given name.

Going into town was a daunting task. The bus driver called out her stop and she disembarked. It wasn’t difficult finding where he was staying.

“Can I help you Miss?” a voice beside her asked.

She jumped and turned to him, “Is this The Imperial?”

“It is.  Shall I escort you to reception?”

“If you don’t mind,” she said, mounting the steps with him.

“May I help you?” asked the girl at reception as Jenna approached.

“I believe Mr Santario is staying here?” Her heart was pounding making her sound breathless.

“I’m sorry but I can’t give out that information.”

“I’m an old friend of his, you see. Will you to pass this note to him? Would you do that?”

“Well I…”

“I assure you I’m not some crazy fan trying to get near him.”

“Well, all right then, but it doesn’t mean he is staying here.”

Jenna smiled. “I understand. I’ll just wait, is there a seat?”

“Yes, I’ll show you.”

Jenna waited for what seemed like an eternity, her heart thumping wildly.  She formed the words in her mind. “Aunt Ivy and I were in a car crash, she died, and it left me like this.”

Then she heard his voice call her name and could imagine his face. She picked up her white stick and went to him.

The end

 

This story is taken from Karen’s book The Magic of Stories. It contains a collection of short stories and poetry. Karen is a multi genre author and this book is divided up into different categories, from romance to paranormal, from stories in poetry to short five-line tales. The book is on special offer and you can get a copy here.

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