Where’s the Floor: Friday Fictioneers

The taxi made its way up the dirt road, dust spewing into the air, squirrels darting away from the tires that bumped over mounds of uncut vegetation. As it came to a jerking stop Ursula jumped out into the summer sun, arms stretched towards the sky and squealed, “We’re here! It’s ours!  Bags forgotten she flung open the creaky gate and rushed towards the front door. The key jammed and stuttered, but finally the knob turned releasing the door from its hinges into the house, down into a gaping hole. There was no floor. Houses aren’t something you buy online. … Continue reading Where’s the Floor: Friday Fictioneers

No More Pillow Talk: Flash Fiction

She stood at the kitchen window pensive and disconnected.  The sink full of dishes had been waiting all night.  Her wrinkled hands picking up a dish absent-mindedly as she gazed into her neighbour’s kitchen. The early morning sunlit rays highlighted the dust floating in the air. She followed the beam with her eyes. It landed on his grey balding head.  She missed his visits. He turned and waved knowing she was there, she shot back to life. Gone are the days of hugs and handshaking she thought. No more pillow talk, we’ll just have to talk through the fence again. … Continue reading No More Pillow Talk: Flash Fiction

Poor Aunt Esther: Flash Fiction

Every Wednesday afternoon Ella Gitterman brought her Tupperware containers filled with delicious dinners and desserts for her aging aunt.  Poor Aunt Esther hadn’t left her house in 12 years. Disabled and penurious, Ella was her lifeline, dutifully bringing meals, helping with cleaning, shopping, and all the other things Ella knew how to do well.  Ella expected nothing in return. This Wednesday was different.  Ella washed the Tupperware still sitting in the freezer full of uneaten food and laid it on the table.  The doorbell rang.  The family lawyer was here.  She signed the papers. Ella was New York’s newest billionaire. … Continue reading Poor Aunt Esther: Flash Fiction

Shots Fired: Flash Fiction

She sat slumped, her hands face up, resting in her lap. Their weight like sandbags, barely holding the tissue that she would use to wipe the tears that fell onto her arms. It was just yesterday when he was still here. His blood spattered across the court. Today they washed the chalk lines and his blood. Erased. He was gone forever. Her child. Just playing. Caught in the crossfire. Promises of the future evaporating like the puddles on the court, slowly disappearing. Behind her she heard voices, footsteps running. A ball bounced across the court. One shot, with its echo. … Continue reading Shots Fired: Flash Fiction