Tag Archives: flash fiction

The Long Memory

piazza navona

© Sally-Ann Hodgekiss

“This is the man I saw when I was in Piazza Navona, Officer. The one who vandalized the Fontana del Moro.”

“Thank you, Mr. Russo. We have your statement and the court will contact you about his trial.”

Giovanni Russo left the police station and two police officers escorted the vandal to an interrogation room.

“Sir, you have no identification. Who are you? Why did you decapitate the figures on the Fontana with a rock?”

“Stop questioning him, Romano. He should have a lawyer.”

“He isn’t asking for one, is he, Bianchi?”

Both officers looked at the mysterious man. They’d never understand the thoughts transpiring behind those ancient, haunted eyes.

Piazza Navona had been built on the site of the 1st century Stadium of Domitian where the Romans went to watch the games. That was where he’d died for the first time. Since then, an endless stream of reincarnations brought the horror back with each lifetime. Now in 2011, his current incarnation was quite insane.

Written for the Sunday Photo Fiction – May 14th 2017 writing challenge. The idea is to use the photo above as a prompt to create a piece of flash fiction no more than 200 words long. My word count is 164.

On September 3, 2011, the Fontana del Moro was really damaged by a vandal, though he was photographed by security cameras rather than seen by a live witness.

Also, the Piazza Navona really was built on the site of the Stadium of Domitian. I used these two bits of history to craft my wee tale this morning.

To read other stories based on the prompt, go to InLinkz.com.

L is for Lion

l is for lion

© James Pyles

The King.

Of course, it was a lion. It wasn’t cowardly. It was angry.

He seemed larger than a typical male lion, but everything seemed unrealistically larger here. His mane was the color of burnt wood and his fur was a rich golden hue. The King’s eyes were glowing green, the shade used in many comic books and cartoons to indicate radioactivity. Here, in this unreal world, it seemed a dangerous reality.

“You’ve caused us some trouble, young Daniel.”

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Mom’s Secret

auto aftermath

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“What the hell happened to the car, Mom?”

“Sorry, Mark. I thought I had enough clearance pulling out of the parking garage. I must have hit something?”

“Hit something? Mom!”

Since Dad’s death, Mark was trying to help Mom out, but she was getting more forgetful and disorganized each day. Clearly she wasn’t fit to drive, but getting her to give it up was going to be tough.

“Damn! That last invader agent hit my car with a disruptor blast before I could get away,” she thought. “Hate lying to my son, but he can’t learn my secret.”

I wrote this in response to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers writing challenge. The idea is to use the photo prompt above and write a piece of flash fiction no more than 100 words long. My story’s word count is 98.

My Dad passed away about three weeks ago. Afterward, my brother and I helped my Mom deal with a lot of the details in settling Dad’s affairs. My wife and I came back to help out some more, and Mom continues to have problems remembering important details. Eventually, we plan on having her move in with us, but giving up her independence will be hard for her.

No, she hasn’t had any car accidents, but then again, she doesn’t need to be driving either. In my wee bit of flash fiction, I recreated Mom as having a secret that makes being absentminded just a ruse. Would that this could be true.

To read more stories based on the prompt, go to InLinkz.com.

K is for Kangaroo

k is for kangaroo

© James Pyles

There was nothing but darkness, and then there was light.

Daniel woke up with a headache surprised to be alive. The last thing he remembered was Gerald the Rooster expanding to fantastic proportions, growing to become a prehistoric nightmare, and engulfing the ten year old in its ebony wings.

Then he was here, wherever “here” was.

“The farm?”

It sort of looked like the farm, but not really. There were structures in the right places, the farmhouse, the chicken coop, the barn, but they all had an air of unreality to them, as if they were just “bookmarks” for other objects.

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The Pest

garden

© Yarnspinner

Mornings were lovely here. Jim sighed as he took his cup of coffee and book to the table in his garden. He could finally afford the peace and quiet a lifetime of working had denied him.

His wife had passed away and the children all had lives of their own. He tolerated the occasional holiday or summer visit, but found he preferred his own company.

“Hey there, neighbor. Welcome. Great garden. Mind if I have a look? Thanks.”

“Who the hell…?” Jim rose to his feet and found his right hand being vigorously shaken by a paunchy, balding man in baggy shorts and a garish Hawaiian shirt.

“Bill’s the name. Glad to see a new neighbor. Sure that we’ll be best friends. What kind of garden you got? How about a cup of coffee? Cream and sugar if you’ve got it.

Jim got coffee, the sugar, the cream, and added an abundant portion of strychnine, not enough to kill the pest, but enough to make him think twice about coming over for refreshments again.

This was written for the FFfAW Challenge of the Week of May 9. The idea is to use the photo prompt above to create a piece of flash fiction between 100 and 175 words long, with 150 being the ideal. My word count is 174.

To read more stories based on the prompt, visit InLinkz.com.

J is for Juice

j is for juice

© James Pyles

Daniel was in the henhouse gathering eggs, but he also wanted an opportunity to check in on Henrietta. Gerald the Rooster was elsewhere in the barn yard, so there was time for this clandestine meeting.

While the other hens appeared as they always did, the ten year old was shocked to find the talking hen missing feathers and with her left eye swollen. What had happened to her?

“Henrietta. Are you okay?”

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The Secret Device

cell phone

© A Mixed Bag 2012

Remember, Z’kin. You’re holding one of the most sophisticated computing devices ever conceived. It has multiple scanners to gather data on their entire environment, communications circuits allowing you to contact our ship in orbit, and a voice interactive interface which can instantly answer any question.

“Not, Z’kin, Commander. My code name is Gary Evans.”

“Right. Of course. We’ve landed in a wooded area just outside of one of their communities. It’s just before dawn, so after you leave the shuttle, we should be able to launch undetected.

“Thanks, Commander. I’ll contact you daily during my scouting mission.”

“Good luck Z…uh, Mr. Evans.”

His alien form altered to look human, “Gary Evans” exited the shuttle and walked the five miles to the city. By the time he got downtown, the streets were bustling with people going to and fro.

The alien reached into his pocket secure in the knowledge that his secret device gave him mastery over his mission.

Then he saw them. They all had one. Every person he saw was looking down at their screens, rapidly tapping out messages or talking to “Siri”. His secret device was all too common here.

I wrote this for the Sunday Photo Fiction writing challenge. The idea is to write a piece of flash fiction no more than 200 words based on the photo prompt above. My word count is 192.

When I saw the photo prompt, I thought of how the hand-held communicators in the 1960s TV show “Star Trek” seemed so advanced, but now, today’s cell phones are so much more sophisticated. Imagine an alien race who wants to scout Earth thinking some of their technology is so superior only to discover we have the same thing.

To read other stories inspired by the photo prompt, go to InLinkz.com.

H is for Hen

h is for hen

© James Pyles

Another morning, another visit to the henhouse for Daniel. Most of these eggs would be sold at the market, which added a modest amount to his aunt’s and uncle’s income. His experiences yesterday taught him to get in, collect the eggs, and get out.

Since his encounter with the frog, nothing amiss had happened to the boy. He and Towser had walked over to Ben Swigert’s farm, found his uncle and old Ben, and watched them struggle with and cuss at the thirty year old tractor until almost sunset.

Finally, replacing several hoses and a fuel pump later, the machine roared back to life.

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G is for Grape

g is for grape

© James Pyles

After leaving the pond, Daniel didn’t go back to the farmhouse right away. He spent a lot of time wandering around, looking at everything which, since his encounter with the frog, seemed perfectly ordinary.

He played “fetch” with Towser until the boy got bored (the dog never got bored with “fetch”), he found Fearful Symmetry and two of her three kittens (the pink one was still missing) near the barn and petted them for a while. He even peeked into the henhouse only to find it was still an ordinary henhouse with ordinary hens.

Finally, he slipped back into the backdoor of the house and into the kitchen.

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F is for Frog

f is for frog

© James Pyles

It was after lunch and Daniel was still haunted by the incident of the egg. He explained to Aunt Abby that he accidentally dropped one, but besides saying “Accidents will happen” and giving him a rag to wipe up the mess with, she proceeded calmly with the matter of making breakfast.

Only the broken shell and a small bit of the yoke was left on the floor by the time the ten year old got back to the henhouse. Now, as he was walking down the path leading to the pond near the edge of his uncle’s property, he was still wondering what happened to the rest. For that matter, ever since he arrived at the Harris farm for his annual summer vacation, he was wondering how everything that had once been comfortable and familiar had become strange and menacing.

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