Tag Archives: flash fiction

Story A Day May #30

Two bitty bits of flash fiction today. I’m currently in a crazed state as I was cleaning up my iTunes and decided to go ahead and update my phone as well … and now my phone is in recovery mode, so I’m going to post this and then continue to quietly freak out. 🙂 Enjoy!

May 30, 2015

Rush Hour Traffic

             “Wow! Look at that!”

I pointed with my right index finger. My husband followed the line of my finger as I stared at the sculptured shrubbery of the high end jewelry store parking lot.

“Yeah, that’s been there.”

“I’ve never noticed it. I thought it was a giant butterfly before I noticed the horse. That’s cool,” I said, still peering out of the window while we sat in traffic.

“Yep. It’s a Pegasus. I think it’s a Pegasus. Or a unicorn? No, because Pegasus’ don’t have horns, do they?” he said.

“Uh, nooo,” I said.

“”Cause unicorns fart rainbows and vomit cotton candy and all that crap.”

“Yes. That’s exactly what they do. Gosh, honey, everyone knows that.”


Strange Beliefs

             “Elyssa thinks that mice grow up to be rats,” said Ann.

“She does not,” said Erin.

Ann nodded, laughing. “She really does. I’ll prove it.”

She walked to the phone and paged for their coworker to come to the cosmetics counter. Ann started telling Erin different stories about their manager. It was a few minutes before Elyssa made it over to them, and by that time both Erin and Ann were laughing loudly.

“What’s up?” asked Elyssa.

“You seriously don’t think mice grow up to be rats, do you?” asked Erin.

“I don’t care what you guys say, I still believe that,” said Elyssa.


Story A Day May #22

I had a long and weird conversation with a customer at work today, (the things random strangers will say!) so that is the reason for today’s bit of fictional exchange. 😄

May 22, 2015

Jonathan looked up from the screenplay he was reading. He glanced at the new one that had just landed on his desk, then glanced at his partner.

“What’s this?”

“You wanted a different screenplay for our next project,” said Adam. “Here it is.”

Jonathan set the one in his hands aside and grabbed the other one. “‘Rejection Slip’. This doesn’t sound like sci-fi.”

“It’s a comedy.”

“Okay, and I clearly remember saying that I was tired of doing crass comedies. I want something with substance.”

“This has substance,” said Adam. “It’s about a single professor who gives out rejection slips after bad blind dates instead of telling the girls he doesn’t want to see them again.”

“Oh, well, that makes it sound so much better,” said Jonathan. He tossed it to his partner. “Lemme guess, guy meets girl, guy gives girl a slip, but she rejects his rejection, or she gives him one at the same time, they try to one-up each other, and eventually,” he gasped, “they fall in love?”

“Okay, okay. But sci-fi? Ugh.” Adam’s face lit up. “Wait … what if the guy in this movie is a robot?”

“That’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Robots are funny. Haven’t you ever seen a robot?”

Jonathan stared at him. “Have you? Besides your Roomba?”

“That thing is hilarious.”

“So what’s your problem with science fiction? Or for that matter, fantasy or drama?”

Adam waved his arms around. “Sci-fi always has bugs. I hate giant bugs. Dramas are too dramatic. What do you want? The next goofy kid with a magic wand movie?”

“Abosultely. Go find me that.”

Story A Day May #21

Using the

www.writingexercises.co.ukwebsite again today, as I’m again writing on break at work and have just a little time to knock something out. (I might be a bit of a procrastinator.) I guess it’s good that I don’t get off work until 12:15am, and actually have the office to myself unlike if I worked early. 🙂

And, not really knowing the exact mechanics of water wells, besides digging a giant hole and fishing water out of it, we’ll all just pretend that the following bit of fiction is ‘technically correct’.

May 21, 2015

Random First Line Prompt:

There was a legend about the well in the garden. All the children knew it. They grew up hearing about it from Old Mother Mabel. She used to speak in hushed tones, telling the tales of the nymph and water elves that lived at the bottom of the well, deep underground. Every child knew that you had to toss a coin in for good luck every time you passed. The nymph blessed their village with rain and good crops.

Old Mother Mabel picked her way over the worn forest path, knobby walking stick tapping on the ground. She soon reached the clear spring that ran along her property. The woman stood on the bank, and grinned at the coins shimmering among the rocks. No one ever knew that the well was fed by her spring.

First Line of Dialogue Prompt:

“You embarrassed me this evening.”

Sally trailed behind her mother, who was walking with quick steps, the click of her heels echoing on the marble floor. Sally carried her shoes; her tiny feet hurt, and papa had said that she could take them off.

Papa waited at the bottom of the steps, speaking with their driver. He was finishing a cigar. Mother didn’t let him smoke in the house. He glanced up, smiling at them, but then caught the look of misery on Sally’s round face. When her mother met him beside the car, she proceeded to tell him how his daughter completely embarrassed her and the family. In front of Everyone!

Sally walked over the gravel driveway, not caring that her white tights would get dirty. Papa came over and picked her up. He peered at her in only the way a father could.

“What did you say that was just so awful, my baby?”

“Auntie Clementine asked mother what she was doing Sunday morning. She said they should go out for brunch. I said that mother couldn’t.”

“Oh? Why can’t your mother have brunch?”

“Because Sunday is bloody mary breakfast day.” Sally’s little face wrinkled in hard thought. “Papa, what’s a bloody mary?”

Story A Day May #20

Well, this one might be inspired by a conversation that took place where I work. Maybe. Possibly. 😀

If you’ve never worked retail pharmacy, count yourself lucky. If you visit one regularly, those people work harder than you’ll ever know. 
May 20, 2015

I’d been running around all day. Seven hours down and two to go. I’d barely sat down, and one of the three times was to pee. I heard the click of the intercom system and cringed, holding my breath. It clicked off after a second on indistinguishable noise, and I breathed out in relief. The soda delivery driver grinned at me.

“One of those days?”

“Every day is one of those days around this place,” I said. I finished scanning in the merchandise, signed for the delivery, and once he handed me a copy of the invoice, I headed for the office to drop it off in the recieving paperwork bin. I still had to get change for one of the registers, call the help center about the coupon printers in the pharmacy, and … ‘Manager to the pharmacy.’

I grumbled under my breath at the page. I told someone else to get change and headed for the pharmacy. I knew when I saw the seven people in line what they wanted. I didn’t even ask as I stepped into the black hole that was that area of the store. I could see the technician was busy at the counter, and another on the phone with a patient, so I went for the drive-thru phone.

After ringing the guy up, I thanked him and went to hang up the phone when he said, “Excuse me.”


“So this is a generic drug.”


“But my doctor wrote the name brand on the prescription I dropped off. Why isn’t it name brand?”

“We are required, by law, to fill your prescription with the generic because it is cheaper than the name brand.”

“But, what if I want the name brand? My doctor wrote the name of the drug on the prescription.”

“Okay, then we can fill it for the name brand, but your insurance won’t cover it because there is a generic available. It will cost you much more since you’ll have to pay cash price and not a co-pay.”

“Okay, but why won’t they cover it if my doctor wrote it that way?”

“It doesn’t matter how he wrote it. Now, if he wrote as no substitutions then we would fill it as the name brand.”

“Isn’t that what he did?”

“No. He has to physically write ‘Name Brand Only’ or ‘No Generic’ on the paper you dropped off.”

“But the name brand is written on there already. Why can’t you fill it as that?”

“Like I said, if you want name brand, your insurance won’t cover it. If you doctor writes you a new prescription and writes ‘Name Brand Only’ then your insurance still won’t cover it. They will require a Prior Authorization from your doctor, which means we fax your doctor, he tells the insurance company why he wants you to only take the name brand of the medication, and if they approve, they send the paperwork back to him and he sends it back to us.”

“Can we do that?”

“No. He didn’t write it that way.”

“But he wrote the name of the medication on the paper.”

Story A Day May #16

First, if we all haven’t seen Mad Max, then we should stop reading, go see it, and then come back. Just Sayin’.

Second, I got an inkling of a story while passing Cave Hill Cemetary on my way to work. It’s on the U.S. National Register of Historic Places, and if you ever come through Kentucky, it’s a beautiful place to visit. Chartered in 1848, it has a Civil War burial section, as well as offering walking tours. Anyways, enough history lesson and on with the fiction!

May 16, 2015

It stood, almost a lone sentinel. All the others gone by decay or age. There were only five others around the meadow. The house was long gone, but the stone markers were still there. A few of them nearly covered with weeds and wild strawberry plants.

The two nearest to it were slowly dying. It could feel their strained life. Not enough moisture these days, or nutrients, and no human souls came by anymore. But it didn’t much care, for it had stood for a hundred years, and it would stand longer. Proud. Healthy. It knew others would grow eventually; seeds dropped by the birds or the wind.

It still remembered the day he came. It was growing through a tight space between two flat stones. It had not much life left, as the dry, stamped down earth offered no room for it to flourish. He’d knelt, a looming shadow, and traced a finger over the trembling leaves. It had only six then. He said, You’ll never hope to grow here. With a stick and his fingers, he gently dug, unearthing the shallow roots.

It could remember the short-lived panic as it left the earth. But the panic was for naught. It soon found itself in a new home. Dark soil, full of all life, encased it. It could breathe again. There were towering ones nearby that gave encouragement. And always, him. He watered and sang, and when it grew big enough, he sat beneath it.

There were long stretches of time when he went away. It would wonder if he’d return, sometimes thinking that he wouldn’t, only to be happy when he did. As the decades passed, the man spent more and more time among his stone fortress, among his fields, and always the majestic oak tree.

When the General passed, surrounded by family, they buried him at the foot of his favorite tree.

And so it stood, proudly watching over the one who saved him.

Story A Day May #13

Flaaaaaaaaash Fiction. Can we guess it’s short today? I’m still happy with it, and today’s inspiration is brought to me by our dinning room artwork. 🙂 We have a collection (prints, obviously, as we wish we were rich enough to collect art!) of those vintage European spirits ads. Enjoy!

May 13, 2015

The lady in the green dress came by again, I told him.

That’s okay, he told me back, she’s just offering you something tasty.

But what about that cat? He’s got mustard-yellow eyes, and long whiskers. Longest I ever seen. He sits in front of that red disc, a halo of cryptic symbols. Black claws poking out just enough to curl around his perch.

He laughed. He tucked his walking stick under his right arm, grabbed the glass of beer so large he needed both hands, and issued me a wicked grin. At least he’s not that pointy green devil, he said before taking a lick of froth. His aperitif is bitter.

At least, I echoed. But is there nothing to save me?

The woman in white will save you. She used to be a swan.

Story A Day May #12

Okay, so today’s entry is short. Like, short, short. I’m blaming it on my day off laziness, which has come after a day of working in the garden and running errands. And this is in no way tweaked from an actual conversation between me and my husband. Absolutely not.

May 12, 2015

 Second Dinner

             He looked down at the sizzling chicken and rice meal in the stainless steel skillet. Beside him, she did the same.

“That’s a lot of onions,” he said.

“Yup. And a lot of peppers.”

“Lotta peppers.”

“I don’t even know how I could doctor this up.”

“Doctor? You can’t doctor that. You’d have to do surgery.”

“I’m sure I could do some kind of patch job,” he said, sounding diminishingly hopeful.

“No way,” she said. “I’m sure it’s good; it’s just that we don’t like onions and peppers.”


“It will take me ten minutes to pick out what I don’t like and I’ll have a half-empty burrito and a pile of stuff on my plate that I won’t eat. It’s exhausting.”

“Well, then, you better start making plans for second dinner.”

“Ooooh. We’ve got that gouda-filled ravioli.”

“Sounds great.”

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