Thank you to H.R.R. Gorman for the great prompt photo
It was three days since Ginny my little Jack Russell had been put down. I was still heavily in grief – crying every time I thought of her or saw a reminder, anything black and white, and tears flowed. We were enjoying our usual walk; a stop-start exercise as she checked every tree sniffing them excitedly to find out who in the dog world was out and about. Unfortunately for Ginny, a new dog was visiting. A big Rottweiler on a mission. With no owner in sight, this ugly brute ripped into Ginny and I was helpless to save her.
Monday, I returned to work and somehow got through the day. Tim my boyfriend rang saying there was a surprise awaiting me at home.
There certainly was I opened the door to chaos! Toilet paper strewn around furniture and cushions chewed. But out wandered this tiny pup with the biggest eyes. She won my heart immediately.
This story is written in response to the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Challenge #201.
This week’s photo prompt is kindly provided by Yinglan.
I think back to my childhood and the false memories I have shared with my family today. They believe that I was a happy boy and had lots of friends I played with. They do not know the truth – that I was a loner.
I tried to join in the fun especially the ball games that seemed to include everyone. But the fact that my brother was imprisoned for violent acts and stealing cars frightened them, I think. Another strike against me was that he suicided in his cell. My family wiped him out completely, moved states, and never mentioned him again.
But I will shout his name now: “Mike! Mike! Mike!”
He was my half-brother, fourteen years older than me and I had looked up to him, until then. He ruined my childhood really, but I miss him.
This story is written in response to the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Challenge #200. click HERE
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Jodi McKinney.
I can never get away – I am followed wherever I go. They appear in all places. Sometimes the trees, even the hedges along the gravel road on my way home. See them now, exposing their grotesque faces from the clouds. Others say they look harmless, but I know better. They are watching, waiting for the moment I am most vulnerable. They accompanied my first feeling of self-doubt. My mind tussled with the inner knowledge that I was not me. My mother apparently is not my mother. She died after my birth. I trust no-one now, certainly not these stalking ogres.
This story is written in response to the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Challenge #199. clickHERE.
@Photo Flash For Aspiring Writers. No 195. Photo prompt provided by Jodi McKinney.
My eyes are almost sealed, but I can still make out a strip of orange sunset.
I have no feeling waist down, thank heavens. He took that from me.
My chest though is flattened in a vice, like breathing through an iron bodysuit. I focus my mind solely on my muscles forcing them to move so my lungs can fill. But nothing responds. I hear a rasp, I know my breathing is too shallow as energy deserts me.
Incredulously I notice small things, a twig pressing into my shoulder, ants at eye level meandering around a cigarette butt, a torn nail on my middle finger, right hand. I try to scratch in the dirt, futilely.
The bushes are now my refuge, a cradle of caring. They provide me with no air but a dark stillness.
‘Murder victim No: 13, found lying behind bicycle path.’
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Akshata Ram.
# Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
‘It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,’ as the song says, except it’s not in my house. I have a handful of decorations I won at the end of year work Christmas party and that’s all. I was hoping for the bottle of champers – but not to be, well not for me. I’ll put the big Santa bag on the front door and the other little fellows around my large cactus in the lounge. After all its only me here for Christmas Day. I bought some sliced turkey from the deli and I can make a sandwich. Oh and there’s probably cranberry sauce in the fridge from last year that will help me celebrate the special occasion.