I’m sorry to overwhelm you with my incessant flashing, but I wrote these a bit back and never posted. Get comfy and prepare yourself to be entertained or bored to death. Either way, you might be at your computer longer than expected. These were submitted to the M3 Flash Challenge (Flash in the Pan) Winter 2012.
Wake (125) Exact word Count
Snapping out of his drunken daze for a brief moment, Jeremy noticed the cold beer in front of him at the bar. Usually the cap is the only thing off, but this bottle had a note attached. Focusing the best he could, Jeremy read the message.
Drinking is only a temporary feeling and solution, but when there ain’t no solution, temporary ain’t a bad way to go.
He realized he’d spent years, night after night, sharing his life with a bottle. As he looked around the bar, he saw others just like him. Realizing the solution to his problems didn’t live inside a bottle, he did the only thing he could. He raised his bottle and slurred cheers in the wake of his temporary solution.
Flash (100) 87 Words
Here again, I lie in the charcoal-colored night, approaching my once again deep sleep. Yet, this night is unlike all the others. My dreams will be replaced with memories. Visions that I could not recollect under any other circumstances flash by me.
My morning? Oh, please let us not forget my great awakening. Instead, those too will be replaced — replaced with a wake and mourning. How alike those words sound, yet their meanings are entirely different.
At least I don’t have to worry about insomnia anymore.
Dance (50) Exact Word Count
Much time has passed since my eternal slumber began. My body is frozen to the core as I listen to the thumping through the wood. My earthly blanket is covering me. Yet I feel no warmth. My departure is final now. There’s no turning back. I’ve had my last dance.
Fish (100) Exact
When I was young, maybe ‘bout nine, I ‘member that ole swing Daddy built an’ swingin’ to high heaven. On that swing, I found myself thinkin’ ‘bout important things. At home the only things I’d be thinkin’ of were frogs, county fairs, Momma’s apple pie and Joey Crawood. Joey was some weird, freckled-faced kid, who smelled like fish. He also used to put mud in girls’ hair. Meggie, my best friend, said Joey put more mud in my hair on account of him liking me. It was that or ‘cause he liked the way the mud clung to my braids.
Fire (125) I used 120
The side door of the van flew open and there was Rain. I figured she was around my age, but I couldn’t quite tell. Her clothes were simple; t-shirt and jeans, and she wore lots of makeup. You could tell she was a plain girl, who in all cruelty would be lucky to be considered homely. Her figure? She had none. She was as straight as an arrow, all arms and legs, her eyes a pale icy-blue. The dark mascara and liner around her eyes made their color even more stunning. And her corn-colored hair danced in the wind. Well actually, it really didn’t dance. It sort of resembled the aftermath of a brush fire, but it had its charm.
As I work tirelessly, in and out of my mind on things, please enjoy this moment.
Presented by my slut of an elf (Sammy).
After leaving his family, Charlie came home to only a note.
Thanks for getting milk. It would’ve been nice if you brought it back before you left. Don’t worry about the kids or feel guilty. They only cry for you every night. Michael’s therapy is coming along. The shrink says he might be able to drink milk again. Thanks for giving our son a milk phobia.
In all sincerity. I understand the need to find yourself, because the guy who lived here was worthless. I do hope your journey brought you many things, since the things you left, have been burned. Your book is sitting in the toilet though. Apparently, it’s not good enough to burn.
Love ya to lots of little pieces,
This post was inspired by: M3 Flash Fiction Challenge. The word is book, with a word limit of 125. My count is 125 words.
My wife just couldn’t accept the inevitable. Time moves on. We age and we grow. The twins were no exception. As much as she wanted them to stay their perfect and cute size, it wasn’t going to happen. Time passed, just like I told her it would. New growth spurts occurred with every birthday, but she couldn’t adjust.
“I’ve never seen you so upset,” I said to my wife as I embraced her. “It’s natural sweetheart. Please stop crying.”
“But….Things will never be the same. I can barely breathe,” she said as she gasped for air.
“Sweetie,” I said. ”Fat happens. I’ll just get the vise. Before you know it, you’ll be back into that size thirty-six bra and then we’ll work on those jeans.”
“You’re such an ass,” she said. “Why does your one vice have to be brutal honesty?”
This was another M3 Flash Fiction Challenge, using vice and/or vise and a 150 word limit. This work has a 141 word count.