Category Archives: short story

Stiff Upper Lip…(Twittering Tales)

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…Terribly sorry to impose upon you old chap, but might I beg a brief audience to articulate the pickle in which I find myself. Time is short (as is paper) so allow me to harness the power of brevity and proceed forthwith to the kernel of my concern. I am stranded on a des…

 

[END OF MESSAGE]

277 Characters

Written for: Twittering Tales

 

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Filed under Flash fiction, short story

Alfresco Dining…

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High up on a hilltop he watched from his porcelain throne as she approached the front door of their marital home. The divorce settlement stipulated that she be gifted all four walls, and all four walls she would have – nothing more – nothing less.

With vindictive relish he’d stripped the property – first of its photos, then its furniture – the copper pipes, the electrics and finally the masonry, pairing back and back until the whole structure balanced precariously on a delicate outer eggshell.

A key turning in the lock was all it took – a seismic surge through gossamer that reduced the prize to worthless ash…

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Filed under Flash fiction, short story

100 Word Wednesday: The Rodent To Redemption…

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A picture tells a thousand words Jerry…

…Because I hired a private detective – that’s how!

…You promised…a million times…’I quit baby, this time I’m going cold turkey.’

…And now I found you back on the Frappuccinos! Do you want our offspring to die of diabetes?

Why can’t you ferret around in the bins like a real man, maybe bring home some leftover pizza or a delicious slice of mouldy bread?

Don’t you bring my mother into this!

No more chances Jerry. Fall off the wagon one more time and I’m taking the kids, the cheese and the whole shebang…

 

Written for: 100 Word Wednesday

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Filed under Flash fiction, short story

Ivory Poaching…

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Into the fiery pit fell the fornicators; murderers, rogues and blasphemers, and as they frothed and flayed at the devils delight, Chris De Burgh began his song anew.

“The lady in red…”

 

Written for: Twittering Tales

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Filed under Flash fiction, short story

Love For Sale

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The remaining tenant proved the hardest nut to crack. They went at him day and night – an assault of white noise and legal taunts.

Old before his time, he shuffled to the courthouse and made his last stand:

‘I proposed to my wife in this home, toiled for forty years to keep it, and found a widower’s solace here. Please…’

A quadrupled offer finally dislodged him.

He withdrew from the courthouse and disappeared into the crowd, re-emerging many thousands of miles away – a skip in his step.

His wife came to the chalet door. He showed her a cheque for an insane amount of money.

‘Suckers!”

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Filed under Flash fiction, short story

Henry’s Smoking Hot Octogenarian Wife #Writephoto

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Everyone knew she was naked inside that coffin – the mourners, the pall-bearers, the altar boys – everyone. She’d not exactly been backwards in coming forwards, and her final wishes had spread through the community like wildfire.

Henry’s eulogy was a masterclass in widower’s grief, but as he took to the pulpit he could tell that the congregation paid his words no mind. Either through lust or envy, they were all thinking about those big ole boobs.

‘Though we didn’t meet till later life…’

…He stole a glance at a man in the second row – Ron –  a Vietnam veteran whose thousand yard stare drifted towards a tree-line filled with an orgy of insurgents. He and Henry’s wife had been lovers during the 70’s and tales of their debauchery were the stuff of legend.

‘…We crammed an eternity into those few short months…’

Manny and Tony in the fourth row – the instigators of an epic menage-a-trois if stories were to be believed.

‘And though she had…a number of partners…before I was blessed to…’

At the back of the church an overly made up wreck in a leopard-print dress guffawed and warmed herself with the memories of a long distant kinky phase.

‘…I consider myself her soul mate.’

A conveyor belt whirred, the wooden tube penetrated a velvet curtain and the congregation stiffened somewhat.

Afterwards the priest solemnly presented Henry with an urn, turned to leave and, presumably thinking he was out of earshot, murmured: ‘What a piece of ash!’

 

Written for: #WritePhoto

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Filed under Flash fiction, short story

You most of all…

shoes-and-books-by-magaly-guerrero

The reading of the will gave Julian the final confirmation that his mother had hated him. His sister got the house and his brother inherited the business ‘…and to you, my first-born, I bequeath the shoes I was wearing when I met your father, my favourite tan satchel and two volumes on Mesopotamian art.’

He was incensed.

‘I don’t have an artistic bone in my body, she knew how much I hated that satchel, and what am I supposed to do with high heels?’

His siblings presented an alternative view. ‘Have you any idea how important these items were to her? She cherished them above all other possessions.’

Many embittered years later Julian rediscovered the items in his vast attic whilst searching for something of greater worth. A slip of paper slid from the between the two volumes.

‘My darling. Not everything can be expressed in monetary terms. I poured my love into these trinkets, just like I poured my love into you… ‘

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Filed under Flash fiction, short story