Believe Everything you Read: Friday Fictioneers

“Have you seen my pills?” “They’re on the desk.” Dorothy said pointing. “Where on the desk?” “There beside the things!” “What things?” “The things I tidied up, in the corner.  Don’t make a mess.” Cecil ambled over, feeling around with his thin wrinkled hands.  At 92 he was slower than Dorothy, but as sharp as the corkboard tacks that held up their wedding picture. He pushed open the bubble packet and downed his medication with a glass of wine. An hour later Cecil was dead. He was blind and couldn’t read the label that stated, “Do not take with alcohol.” … Continue reading Believe Everything you Read: Friday Fictioneers

Hope: Friday Fictioneers

Hail pelted the windows. Large golf balls, smashing glass, denting vehicles, turning the streets to an icy wasteland with shards pointing skyward. Some ran inside to burrow, wondering when the misery would end.  Some battled, thinking their path out of the melee was the only one.  Some brave souls weathered the storm, picked up the pieces and lent a helping hand up to those who couldn’t stand. Others toiled, endlessly searching for solutions and a way out. Hope looked up at the slow-moving clouds.   The darkness had passed, giving way to blue skies. Undoubtedly, the sun will come out again. … Continue reading Hope: Friday Fictioneers

Gone But Never Forgotten

I’d been driving for hours. My brain and body aching for sleep.  Searching, searching, for anyone.  For any human life. But I am surrounded only by dirt and trees on these broken roads. The rusty door of my pickup truck creaks as I push it open to stand on the dry soil at the end of this dusty vacant trail. “Is there anyone out here?” I yell into my own echo. My hope of finding a single soul dwindling with my gritty voice as the days pass. The virus is gone, but so are the people. Gone, but never forgotten. … Continue reading Gone But Never Forgotten

The Man Who Knew Infinity: Friday Fictioneers

Srinavasa’s pencil moved quickly across his paper.  He worked briskly, rushed, with urgency, trying to get the thoughts out, and the numbers out of his head.  Calculating, desperately searching for the answer, moving in circles around his desk covered with papers.  Rubbing his chin, eyes to the ceiling, the electricity of his thinking palpable in the air. Now he was stuck, lost, unsure, when he heard squeals of laughter coming from the pavement below.  He looked down and there as the children ran off, he saw the forgotten skipping rope laying in its perfect design. The answer he sought. Infinity. … Continue reading The Man Who Knew Infinity: Friday Fictioneers

Bienvenidos: Friday Fictioneers

Simone was in awe. Her head swiveled in every direction trying desperately to take it in.  The flowing white curtains, the sun, the sand, the immense pieces of art on the wall reflecting on the highly polished marble floors. She walked through the gargantuan lobby mesmerized by the view of the Caribbean beyond.  Azure waters moved in translucent layers. Enraptured, she missed a step. Welcome drink crashing to the floor, allowed the scent of mint and lime to escape. She sat in emergency knowing her vacation was over, but on the other hand maybe she’d get even more pampering. Bienvenidos! … Continue reading Bienvenidos: Friday Fictioneers

The Daily Escape: Friday Fictioneers

Felicity wrung her wrinkled hands as she peered through the upstairs window.  Every afternoon as the sun went behind the house the shadow of the chimney glared at her like a sentinel, ensuring she remained locked inside. It had been fifty long years.  How would they know she had been beautiful before this merciless pandemic struck? She flung open the balcony door.  The railing had fallen off years ago.  It was time to jump. No, no not like that.  This was her usual afternoon routine.  Her only escape into the garden below. How else did the lawn get hand cut? … Continue reading The Daily Escape: Friday Fictioneers

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