Tag Archives: short story

I Hades when he does that…

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‘Found you!’

‘God this game’s rubbish…and rigged! I’m the perpetually anger Lord of the Underworld, surrounded at all times by a fiery cloud, and you can change form at will.’

‘Nevertheless, it’s my turn to hide.’

 

Written for: Twittering Tales

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Early Adopter…

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Technology had really taken the adrenaline out of Peeping Tommery – spy cams, zoom lenses and such like.

Roger was old school – Get up close and personal, take a table lamp to the face like a man.

The technician tapped the jar in which his brain floated. ‘No Roger! Bad thoughts!’

 

Written for: Twittering tales

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Gallows Humour…

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In the final moments there was doubt. He steeled himself. Life had been a chore and Rachel wasn’t coming back. This wasn’t even a unique place to jump.

On the way down a tiny light came on: Exit.

Who would ever see such a thing unless in freefall?

‘Huh, that’s pretty fun…’

 

Written for: Twittering Tales

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Giving Notice…

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It was an open secret that the top twenty floors could be jettisoned in the event of an emergency – a fire or a raid by the IRS. No one believed it of course. The story was merely the legend-spinning of an overly flamboyant landlady. Little did they realise that they were slowly being conditioned and coerced with subtle advertising and targeted marketing – the best rates and exclusive deals – till finally she had all the rotten eggs in one place – the fraudsters and embezzlers, pariahs and parasites, and that’s when the building became a Christmas tree of lights and the rockets burst into life. Whether they liked it or not her tenants were being evicted from Earth…

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Victoria Falls…

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None of Victor’s kids wished to be saddled with the property – grim, prone to subsidence and perpetual reminder of a mirth-free childhood. Let it be forgotten with the old tyrant.

But alas, the last will and testament was clear, as were the sizeable debts that had been left behind.

Victor’s kids were besides themselves…

…Until they realised the log-flume potential.

They delayed the funeral for a year (no one would’ve come anyway) and, shortly before the grand opening, retrieved their father from his frosty limbo, placed him in the front seat and gave him a send off worthy of marvel…

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Chattering…

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From the outset it was made abundantly clear that I was considered a poor choice of husband – never more so than at our engagement party: the remotest corner of their extensive grounds, the cheapest furniture, the second best china. I bore their sophisticated scorn with good grace, safe in the knowledge that, whilst not particularly dashing, I was pulling off a daring rescue mission, right under their very noses.

Despite malice, subterfuge and excommunication the inheritance nevertheless found its way into our hands. That we never wanted it would no doubt have doubly offended.

They are empty chairs now, inward facing, silent.

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Filed under Flash fiction

You say tomato…

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In the absence of anything approaching moral fortitude Ursula Boxing arrived at her vocation.

Want someone putting in a box?

Call Ursula Boxing.

Her slow-witted, affable husband Jim manned the phone. As far as he was aware they ran a haulage company (though strangely he’d never seen any trucks).

‘My darling,’ he announced, ‘you’ve a job at a boxing gym! Isn’t that precious!’

‘Yes dear,’ she sighed, sizing him up for future packaging.

The decoded message was clear. Woman. 52. One between the eyes – no fuss.

The place was boarded up. As she entered the door slammed shut behind her and she heard rivets being driven into concrete.

Ursula Boxing was now Ursula Boxed.

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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