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

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

Brown is Better: Flash Fiction

We sat under the sunshine warm and toasty waiting for those rays of gold to do their work. We weren’t good enough as is, we needed to be brown. Brown was better.  People wanted brown. By afternoon we were ready.  Shirley picked us up one by one shining our smooth skin with the soft cloth of her flowing floral skirt, coins jiggling in her pocket. We could see Mrs. May coming, walking towards us, ready to scoop us up for the chocolate cake she’d have cooling on her windowsill by teatime. “Oh my aren’t they perfect!” She exclaimed. Good Eggs! … Continue reading Brown is Better: Flash Fiction