Tag Archives: Flash Fiction

A Picnic: Fiction Friday

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9

Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
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Copyright Madison Woods

Copyright Madison Woods

A Picnic

“Lemonade and ice,” the ceramic pot said. “Maybe it’s a picnic.”

“Picnics!” the spigot said, “I hate ‘em. Kids always putting horrible stuff up my nose, dogs licking me in the face. Disgusting. I like it better on the top of the refrigerator, out of reach.”

“You just don’t like getting baths,” the handle teased. “Big baby.”

“Stop calling me a baby!” the spigot sputtered.

The ceramic pot countered, “I’m the one at risk here. One baseball in the gut and I’m a goner.”

The lemonade, wondering how to get out of there, asked, “Can’t we all just get along?”
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No Reason To Be Greedy: Fiction Friday

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12

Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
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Copyright Dee Lovering

Copyright Dee Lovering

No Reason To Be Greedy

Sally decorated her caves with statues and vases that had fallen to the ocean floor from shipwrecks over the centuries. She loved her figurehead collection.

But ships didn’t have figureheads anymore and there were hardly any shipwrecks these days. To get something new, she had to shop for herself. Drifting up to the Mediterranean, she saw many interesting statues along the coast.

I’ll take just one this trip, she thought. No reason to be greedy. Sally the giant octopus surfaced and, extending two arms, delicately removed the statue from the top of the monument.

She didn’t even hear the screams.

Paradise: Fiction Friday

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10

Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
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Copyright Douglas M MacIlroy

Copyright Douglas M MacIlroy

Paradise

“Commune with nature,” they said. “See polar bears walk by,” they said. “Your very own cabin,” they said. “A veritable Arctic Circle paradise,” they said. She signed up, wanting to be away from everything and everyone.

No one had said anything about summer snow storms. She could barely see the next domed cabin.

She was grateful for the heating that worked, the fully-stocked kitchenette, and the electric blanket. In the bookcase, she found the complete works of Agatha Christie, PD James, and Ruth Rendell. Maybe paradise is white, cold, and isolated, she thought, reaching for Murder on the Orient Express.
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The Routine: Fiction Friday

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15

Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
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Friday Fictioneer prompt. Copyright Roger Bultot

Friday Fictioneer prompt. Copyright Roger Bultot

The Routine

Jamie loved his wife dearly but he thought she was a bit fussy: always checking that the windows were closed, the oven and iron were off, and no faucets were dripping before they went anywhere. He waited for her to complete her routine each time they left the apartment.

While Mona was visiting her sister, Jamie prepared his meals, ironed his own shirts, left the bed unmade. He made a point of leaving the apartment without performing Mona’s exit routine, congratulating himself for being the reasonable one.

The way Jamie remembered it, he hadn’t left anything cooking on the stove.
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Boxcar 87: Fiction Friday

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6

Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
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Friday Fictioneer prompt. Copyright Jennifer Pendergast

Friday Fictioneer prompt. Copyright Jennifer Pendergast

Boxcar 87

“Are we almost there?”

Boxcar 87 looked back. Boxcar 88 was rocking a little from side to side, looking a bit anxious under a thin layer of dust.

“First trip out west?” Boxcar 87 asked. “Relax. Look how beautiful the desert is.”

Boxcar 88 snorted. “It’s boring. It’s, like, one color: khaki. Miles and miles of boring nothing.”

Boxcar 87 wondered about the future of rail transportation when youngsters like 88 had no patience, no imagination.

“Are we almost there?” Boxcar 88 repeated.

“No, we are not almost there.” Boxcar 87 sighed. This was going to be one long trip.