Mama mama… he came, screaming into the room. My heart skipped a beat, I thought something horrible had happened. Since our house got broken in, every call of excitement sent a shiver down my spine.
“Grandpa has super powers!” He kept repeating, jumping up and down with a huge smile spread across his face.
“I saw a light coming out of grandpa’s hand“, he remarked excitedly when he saw me.
“Aw Honey“, I smiled, “that is not possible”.
For a moment, his face was a mask of horror and I though, ah, I have broken my son’s heart. It was only for moment though because, he smiled again saying, “but Ma, you always say through God, all things are possible”.
I laughed, knowing that was something I could not refute that.
word count: 131. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Thank you for this week’s photo @Goroyboy
We were tasked with writing a 2000 word essay on any topic of our choice relating to history, and I had the perfect topic- Dinosaurs: Myth or reality.
It was a no brainer really. There’s a newly opened dinosaur museum only a few blocks from my home, so I wouldn’t have to walk much or spend transport fare. Plus, rumor has it that the museum guide is a “talker”, and I figured he would be more than willing to offer up information for my paper. It was only a few days to the submission deadline, this had to work.
I slung my backpack and headed for the museum. I got to the main gate, cleared and casually strolled into the museum hall only to find a bunch of youngsters who looked like my classmates.
“You lot are a bunch of lazies!” I yelled into the laughing group. Apparently I wasn’t the only one with the “lazy ingenious” idea after all.
word count: 157 words. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. Thank you for this week’s picture @Yinglan
Karim shifted the handbrake into park mode and dialled his wife’s number.
“Hun, sorry I didn’t call you back in time, I was just…”
“What’s that sitting on your lap”, she interrupted.
He glanced down and said, “Ohh its the neighbour’s cat. Mrs Graham requested me to drop her off at the Vet’s”.
“Ohh really”, his wife exclaimed “and when did you start doing favours for each other?”
He didn’t have time to respond before she threw another question
“And why is the cat sitting on your lap?”
The next thing Karim knew, his wife was bawling through the video call.
“First its her cat, next thing, it’d be her daughter. I know she’s been eyeing you”, she continued.
Karim didn’t know what to do, so he said, “I’m sorry love”, whilst mentally calculating how many weeks were left before his wife would be due to give birth.
Word count:144. The above story is in response to FFFAW hosted by priceless Joy. Thank you for this week’s picture @ENISA
Sheila felt a slight tug at her sleeves, which she purposely ignored. She was on babysitting duty which meant, taking her four siblings out, ranging between the ages of 4 and ten, for no pay whatsoever. Ohh, the drawbacks of being the older child.
The tug pulling reached an uncomfortable point, and considering “the stare” also didn’t dissuade the sleeve puller, Sheila bent down and whispered a fierce “what?“
Dawn whispered back, “can we sneak it home please?”
Sheila looked through the glass in front of her. Each one housed a crocodile, a chameleon, a porcupine and the best of all, something which looked like a really huge praying mantis residing on purple coloured limestones.
Sheila glared at Dawn, “you mean the purple stones right?”
Dawn smiled a little too sweetly, “But of course sis. What did you think I meant. The Mantis?”
Word count:142. The above story is in reaponse to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge hosted bu Priceless Joy. Thank you very much for this week’s picture @Any1mark66
The girl who spilled juice on
A mother’s newly moped floor is
The girl who sneaked dolls to
Classes because school needs
more fun is
The girl who faked stomach cramps
Joint pain, hospital visits to escape
The girl who’s anger was at the
Tip of a button is
The girl who soaked her sheets
With emotions streaming across
Her face is
The girl who lived and loved and
Joked and took each day Without
A care is
The clumsy is in you,
The angry is in you,
The happy is in you,
The sad is in you,
-a part of you, not the
You are who you know yourself
Not the idea thrown across
I really enjoyed doing the december poetry challenge last year. Plus, I found this really inspiring prompt called “30 layers, 30 days” which many bloggers have completed now. So, I decided to use the prompts for December.
Today’s Prompt: An idea of you
D.S Fenworthy found a spot to watch the magnificent display happening right in front of his eyes. He laid on his back, with his head resting atop his intertwined fingers; unbothered by the sand grains gaining entry into his clothe.
The display lasted only a few minutes, but those minutes were everything. The sun transformed into a ginormous golden beauty from a speck; and in the process, created an undertone of subtle colours, evoking a feeling words could not describe.
For some reason, D.S Fenworthy felt at peace.
He searched in his pocket for the piece of paper his partner D.I Lucy had left for him and read it again.
“We all have those days…. Thank me later.”
That was all it said, and then this location and time was scribbled beneath.
He smiled and crumpled up the paper, thinking, despite what the other coppers said, D.I Lucy was one heck of a partner and boss.
word count: 158. The above story is in reaponse to Flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Each week we are provided with a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story. Thank you for this week’s photo: @Footy and Foodie
My eyes steadily went down the list, Aisha, Alisa, Amal, Basma… I stopped. My heart skipped a beat. I ran through the names again up until Basma. Ameena wasn’t there. My name had been skipped, which meant, I failed the exams.
I walked away from the board in a daze. I failed…. what would my parents say; and I had already told them that results were coming out this week, oh the price of talking too much. My palms were getting sticky, my throat felt like a hot coal had been stuck in it.
Tears formed in my eyes and were starting to trickle down, I let them flow. It was a good few minutes of grief and mourning before a thought occurred. What if, my surname was used on the list. That way it would be Khan Ameena. And I didn’t get to K while checking the list so, I wouldn’t know.
There was a chance after all, I didn’t fail.
Word count: 162. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge where each week we are provided a picturw and are to write a 75-175word on it. Thank you for this week’s photo @Grant-Sud
D.I Lucy gripped the steering wheel of her car with more force than was necessary. Only a few hours ago, she had rounded off the case of a woman who killed her husband in cold blood with such detail in its planning and execution, that it took D.I Lucy and gang several weeks to come up with admissible evidence for court proceedings.
It felt like she had gotten only a few minutes of sleep, when another call came. And now, here she was, driving across the city and beating the sunrise, in a race to see another display of human’s lack of empathy.
Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts.
“What!”, she screamed into its speaker after pressing the answer key.
“Boss, is everything okay?”, the voice asked.
“Its all good Fen. Sorry, I’m just pissed that murderers have no regard for sleep time”.
word count: 143. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge, hosted by priceless Joy. Thank you for this week’s picture @Pamela S. Canepa
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
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