Flash Fiction: Life at 8

Flash Fiction: Life at 8

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Uncle Shankar was Ma’s older brother but I often wondered if maybe one of them was adopted. They couldn’t possibly be genetically related. Uncle was as jovial as Ma was prim, he smiled as often as Ma frowned, he was slender in build while Ma was, well, thick.

We moved in with him and grandma after Dad passed away. I was eight. Every morning, when I went out to go to school, I’d find Uncle on his chair outside beside the flowers. His face would light up when he saw me; it appeared as if the sun shone out of it.

Good morning old lady“, he’d greet me and set me a pun question which, if I answered correctly, would earn me a chocolate. I rarely got that chocolate.

But I was eight and life, couldn’t have been better.


word count: 138. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring writers photo promot challenge hosted by priceless joy. Thank you very much for this week’s photo  @shivamt25

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Flash Fiction: Superstitions

Flash Fiction: Superstitions

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The sun shone through lace draped curtains, announcing the arrival of dawn. I instinctively turned my face away from it. A few more minutes of sleep shouldnt hurt, but my alarm had other plans. Almost on cue, It started ringing. I turned again, groaned and decided today would not be the day for extra sleep.

It was only as I sat upright on the bed that I noticed it. My hands were flexed at a 45 degree and my fingers were each positioned at an odd angle. I tried to extend my hand but felt a dull aching pain in reaction. They also appeared swollen.

The irrational part of me took over and i started thinking- the village witches have finally gotten to me; I should have prayed before going to bed last night. I worked myself into a nervous sweat, before the rational part of me kicked in to remind me- there was a reason doctors existed. Some parts of culture just never leave us, I sigh.


word count: 167. This story is in resoponse to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge. Thank you for this week’s image @artycaptures

Flash Fiction: red-handed

Flash Fiction: red-handed

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Is that what I think it is”, was the first statement which came out of mama’s mouth the minute she stepped into the house. Her gaze went directly to the cup standing in the middle of the living room. 

The horror on our faces was impossible to hide. We didn’t know she was coming back so soon, we didn’t have time to formulate any theories. Heck, we didn’t even think she would be back early enough to see it.

I looked to Tracy and Brianna and they glared back at me. Oh crap!

“Well“, she was clearly waiting for an answer as she motioned towards us three.
I laughed nervously and the words that came out of my mouth were,
At least, it’s not human poop.”

It was too late to take it back; Brianna gasped, Tracy looked like she needed to puke. I glanced at my mum again, and the look on her face told me one thing- Lord help me!


word count: 162 words. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy, where each week we are provided with a photo and are to write a 75-175 word story on it. Thank you very much for this week’s photo @artycaptures.wordpress.com

Facebook page: words of a random. Let’s connect! 

Flash Fiction: Missing

Flash Fiction: Missing

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D.I Lucy strode into the cordoned off section of the beach, lifting the yellow tape to get across. The urgent call had come right as she was about to brew her morning coffee. She didn’t get to make it and was positively irritated, made all the more worse by the huge smile spread across her partner D.S Fenworthy’s face. Who smiles at a crime scene?

Fenworthy had arrived the beach ahead of Lucy and waved her to the site, where two boats rested. He handed her a plastic cup with black coffee. She was grateful, but irked by his morning joy, decided not to show it.

So, what do we have?” She asked, surveying the scene and making sure not to trample on anything.

Two boats“, he began, “all geared up for journey but with no sign of travel. The renters have been missing, no one saw anything”.

D.I Lucy looked bored, “and they dumped the case on our homicide unit, why?”

“The boss specifically requested us”. He paused, “One of them is his daughter”.


word count: 175 words. This post in response to a Flash Fiction for Aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, where each week we are provided with a picture to write a 75-175 word story surrounding it. Thank you very much for this week’s picture @tj Paris.

Facebook page: words of a random. Let’s connect!

Flash Fiction: Talker-much

Flash Fiction: Talker-much

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We sat by the shore, listening to the sound of waves intermingled with the occasionally far-out voices of travellers, traversing the water in their boats and canoes. It was a peaceful 20 minutes, while it lasted.

“Did you know“, Alexa piped up and I was too mannered to tell her I just wanted to enjoy the moment in silence. Darn good manners.

She went on to spend the next one hour enlightening me on who did what from amongst our friends, her friends and strangers I didn’t even know. It was all I could do to throw the occasional good word in there. They couldn’t all have been that bad.

Finally exhausted for words, she said, So, what’s been going on with you girl“.

Me,” I replied in a high pitched voice, “ohh just the usual. I’ve been fine. The Lord has been good to me!”
There was no way I was going to be the talk of her next conversation with Lord knows who.


word count: 164. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, hosted by priceless Joy, where each week, we are provided a photograph and are to write a 75-175 word story in it. Thank you very much for this week’s photo @Louise of The storyteller’s abode. 

Flash Fiction: Match-Making miss

Flash Fiction: Match-Making miss

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Girl! You’ve got some serious screws lose.”
“He was such a fine specimen.”
“You know you’re making a mistake right.”
“She sure is! What were you thinking, saying no to him.”

Layla stared blankly, hoping her evident disinterest in their monologues would get them to stop talking; it wasn’t working.

Are you even listening to what we’re saying”,
“We’re trying to help you out here, you know”.

Layla gave a loud sigh, then turned to face them,
Why“, she said.
They stared at her, lack of understanding, evident on their faces.
“Did it occur to you, to ask me why I said no to him?”
Silence filled the room. She got up and smiled wearily,
That’s what I thought.”

Layla pointed through the window at the narrow steep pathway, guarded by green shrubs on all sides, which led to up to the hill.

That’s where I’ll be when you’re all done,” she added before heading out. Their murmurs of “you’re not getting any younger you know,” following her out the door. 


Word count: 171 words.  This story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writer’s photo prompt challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy, where each week we are provided a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story inspired by it.  Thank you very much for this week’s photo @JS Brand.

 

Flash Fiction: Home

Flash Fiction: Home

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Jacob watched the world below him unfold. Standing on the roof top of one of the many dilapidated buildings at 23rd Avery. The kids were playing football and would probably keep at it until the sky turned a deep red.

He watched with a ting of sadness, playing statistics in his head- only 2 out of every 7 of those kids would make it to college; most of them would have the misfortune of being jailed at least once; and thanks to the gang bangers, a few of them might not even live to celebrate their 30th birthday.

He stood, oblivious to the shouting going on below. His neighbourhood was dying, both metaphorically and literally. The violence was at a whole new peak, the buildings were collapsing, even the tree leaves had turned a weary brown.

But, he smiled. It was still his neighbourhood. Plastered on every corner were memories he had created; this “mess”, was all he had ever known. And, despite many unfavourable names it’s been called by outsiders, for him, it was simply “home”.


word count: 175. This story Is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy, where each week we are provided with an image and are to write a 75-175 word story surrounding it. Thank you for this week’s  photo @Grant-sud

Flash Fiction: You had one job!

Flash Fiction: You had one job!

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Come in”, Leslie answered from behind her desk without lifting her gaze up.
The door was pushed softly and in walked Tony, in his usual black tee, jeans and bandanna.

“You sent for me boss?” Tony asked, a broad smile on his face.

She looked up, dropped her pen and folded her hands across the table.
“Yes I did.” Leslie replied curtly.

Does this look like an alternate universe to you“, she began, without necessarily waiting for an answer. “where gnomes go around chasing aliens for the entertainment of humans while we cheer them on”

The smile on Tony’s face faded.

“You only had one job Tony,” Leslie continued, “get me a cover picture that would surprise me and stun the readers. And you decided of all the excitement of this universe to supply me with the shot of an alien and a gnome!”

Tony knew the only thing he could do was apologise, which he did.
“Sorry?” She echoed his apology, “well sorry for yourself!” she replied, hurling the picture at him.


word count: 173. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring writer’s photo prompt challenge, for which I am almost late for, almost. Thank you very much @any1mark66 for this week’s photo.

Flash Fiction: Night-watch

Flash Fiction: Night-watch

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Boss“, began D.S Fenworthy before he was shushed to silence by his partner D.I Lucy. She sat with her head, half-out the car window, gazing towards the sky, as had been her position for the past 20 minutes.

Boss, this is getting ridiculous.” Groaned Fenworthy.

D.I Lucy sighed before turning her gaze to face him in the driver’s seat.
“A few minutes of silence was all I wanted,” she muttered.

Well, We’ve been sitting in this car for the past four hours“, Fenworthy moaned.
“4 hrs, 37 minutes“, she corrected.

Yes that. Can’t we leave already.”

D.I Lucy smiled in wonder at how Fenworthy could be surrounded with such beauty- The soothing presence of the golden yellow ombré against a blue background in the sky, the soft whooshing sounds of tree leaves, the cool autumn breeze blowing; yet still find something to moan about.

Soon Fen.” She answered, knowing he couldn’t decipher her facial expressions in the darkness. And thinking to herself, “some people need a date with nature.”


Word count: 166. The above story is in response. You Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writer’s photo prompt challenge, where each week we are provided with a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story on it. Thank you @footy and foodie for this week’s photo.

Flash Fiction: Behind four walls

Flash Fiction: Behind four walls

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Just look at this place.” D.S Fenworthy gawked at the magnificence of the ancient building in front of them.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those” replied D.I Lucy, mildly amused at his reaction.

One of who?” He asked pausing in his tracks.

Never mind”. D.I Lucy shrugged. Marching into the building, knowing fully well she had touched a nerve with him. Fenworthy was too curious for his own good which was a great thing in his line of work, but a thorn in other aspects of his life.

One of who boss?“, Fenworthy pressured on. Increasing the pace of his footsteps to catch up with her.

They arrived in front of a ginormous metal gate, with no means of opening. It brought them back to the grim reality of why they were there in the first place. D.I Lucy placed her badge in front of a camera which was embedded on one side of the wall and thought to herself, oh the evils that lurk behind closed doors.


word count: 169. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writer’s photo prompt challenge hosted by Priceless Joy, where each week we are provided with a photo and are to write a 75-175 story surrounding it. Thank you very much @majesticgoldenrose for this week’s photo.