Tag Archives: flash fiction

Shimmer #writephoto

between-shimmer

Photo by Sue Vincent

There was a shimmer of light, a shift of the shadows.

The room came into focus.

“Blow out the candles, Mikey!”

It was Mike’s sixth birthday party.  All of his friends were there.  He knew how it would end up, the disappointment and hurt feelings.

The world turned and the light shimmered.

He was in an auditorium full of people.  He heard his name and walked to the podium to receive his high school diploma. As he took it and shook the principle’s hand he could feel the years of struggle and hardship ahead.  One back-breaking minimum wage job after another, often followed by months or years of unemployment.

The auditorium spun out of control, the shimmering and flickering light dancing in strange patterns. Continue reading

Light #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

It was just after the first real snow of the year. A couple of wet inches, which might be gone by noon or may last all winter, greeted us.  It sure was pertty, that untracked white. I smiled at the sight, though dreaded the cold winter ahead.

A chill ran through my bones as I thought of last winter.  Not everyone lives through winter, see? At least not out beyond the frontier. Yeah, it was pertty an’ all, and I was as happy as the others, but…

“I say winter is here, no matter the calendar tells us. Let’s get our tree today,” Pa said as we stood around gaping the changed world.

The young‘nes whooped.

My mind went back to that cold, earthen mound.

“Oh, what fer?” I asked.

I remembered Christmas in Illinois and the days we actually had real gifts.  Now it was all just stuff Pa made and all. The young‘nes didn’t know no better. And this year, of all years…

Pa frowned his earth stopping frown. Continue reading

Glass #writephoto

glass

Photo by Sue Vincent

Jay looked across the lake at the distant mountain. Nothing was moving over the glassy water.

Good.

He slipped the kayak into the water, stepped in placing his little backpack on the floor between his legs, and pushed off. After a couple of hard paddles to get the boat’s momentum up, he relaxed into a routine of gentle, quiet, yet efficient strokes.

Silent. That was the key word. Didn’t need anyone to hear, and there were a lot of ears, not to mention the Guardian.

After several minutes, Jay glanced back. The kayak created a small wake as it sliced through the smooth water. Eddies swirled where his paddle had pushed the water back, propelling his tiny craft. The shore was receding, but still near, too close. There was no movement, his theft had yet to be discovered. Continue reading

Glow – #writephoto

frosty-dawn--glow

Photo by Sue Vincent

“Ouch! Damn…”

I could feel the warm glow on my cheek where the twig had slapped me.  I rubbed it. Was I going to get a welt?

Wiping away that unbidden tear – I was sure it was from the pain of the slap not something else – I continued on my way.

“Damn” was right. In fact, it felt too weak for the turmoil surging through my brain.

I pushed another leafless branch out of my way, but was careful this time that it didn’t slip and smack me as the last one had.

I was going to my little private spot on the ridge. “Private”, though it was the worst kept secret in the village.

Perhaps even worse than my love for Anita. Continue reading

Final Battle

I enter a corridor. It is a trap. I know it is, and they know that I know.

A quick scan revels nothing. There are no obvious explosives, no beams or triggers, nothing. Innocent.

I move slow, slow and methodical.

There is a book that talks about moving to blend in with nature so your footsteps cannot be detected, to mimic the wind across the sand. What can I mimic as I feel my way down the giant spaceship’s most important corridor? And yet I know my movements stay below that ½ decibel over background that is so important.

A door. Closed. Locked.

I know I can enter, but at what cost?  I would lose time and make a racket.

I scan as well as possible, yet I can’t tell if the room behind is occupied, there isn’t enough data.

I think for a tenth of a nanosecond and move on. I wouldn’t forget that the door was there, a potential enemy, a menace. Continue reading

Web #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincet

Mr. Stevens said his goodbyes and left me alone in the ancient manor house. This would be my first night in my ancestral home, and, unfortunately, I’d be spending it alone since Margret was stuck in New York for at least another week.

Father had told me of the existence of the manor, but I had never really thought of it as a real place or ever dreamed I would be the last of my breed and so inherit the place.

Actually, for the most part, Father, didn’t mention his old homeland, but I had once asked him about the manor, being a bit more persistent than usual. He only said that it was owned by Hugh, as was any occupant. He had hated his visits to the ancient house and called his uncle cruel. “Though related by blood, he was no relation to me or my parents.”

I also discovered Father had spent a lot of time there as a child, though he grew up in in distant London. Beyond that cryptic remark about Hugh, he said absolutely nothing about the visits. He had moved to America as a young man and never returned. He hinted that the Alntic Ocean was barely big enough to separate him from his uncle.

Sso this was not only my first night in the old castle, but my first trip over the pond. Continue reading

The Calling #Writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

“Who’s there?”

William Smith opened the door a crack, letting the howling wind sweep through the small room carrying a drift of snow with it.

Only the storm answered with its continued roar, sometimes louder, sometimes softer.

William slammed the door shut. Snow settled around the room.

William started at the door a moment, shaking his head

There had been a knock and a voice calling his name. He heard it. It was real. He knew it wasn’t his imagination. Continue reading

Copper #writephoto

copper

Photo by Sue Vincent

The doorframe splintered around me as soon as I walked outside. Bullet holes appeared on the siding of the house in front of me and behind me while I walked to the drive. I just wasn’t in the mood. I turned and gave the finger to the sniper on the Karlsberg’s roof.

“I saw that, young man.”

I turned and waved. “Hi, Mr. Smith. What did you see?”

“Don’t play with me, I saw you flip the bird. I’m not sure who you were giving that one finger salute to, but your parents will hear about it.”

I put on my best “I’m totally confused” face and turned around.

“There’s nobody around, so why would I flip anyone off?  Oh, I get it. I did a fist pump because of how beautiful the day is and how great it is to be out in it. Did you think I stuck my middle finger up when I did that? I’m sorry.”

Mr. Smith stared at me for a minute and then started to rake his leaves again. I could hear him grumbling to himself as I walked by. Continue reading

Poised #writephoto

poised

Photo by Sue Vincent

What was that, an elf, a dwarf, a gnome?  A half-guessed figure half-seen through a tunnel of rock. An endless stairway that could be descending from Rivendell, Lothlórien or perhaps escaping from the lands of Mordor to green Ithilien beyond. Where will this creature lead me?  Where will I go today?  I hurry, for he is fleet.

Or is it “she”?

I take up my pen and paper, poised to venture out into a new world of imagination, smile, and start the flow of words to take me to those stairs, to see that figure to know the adventure beyond.

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A little different today – a story about creating a story :)

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Written for Sue Vincent‘s #writephoto challenge.  This weeks challenge, “poised”, is here.

Mirror #writephoto

mirror-pool

Photo by Sue Vincent

“Which is the real world, the one in front of me or the one reflected in the mirror of the pool?”

Dan laughed at his bit of silliness.

It had all been getting to him, work, family, everything.  Reality.  His reality.  He needed some time alone, far from his work and family, far from his reality.  Time to be alone with himself.  What is more important than self?  It wasn’t a hard decision: he took a long weekend to unwind in the woods. It would be perfect.

But it wasn’t going as well as planned.  Despite being away from it all, so far all he had done is worry, worry and more worry. The real world just wouldn’t leave him in peace.  He would see a flower and think of bills unpaid, work not finished, arguments unresolved. Continue reading