One Minute Fiction — Birds on the Wires

Cyranny offered up her photo above for this week’s One Minute Fiction challenge. The objective of this challenge is to prompt us to take a minute to write a piece of flash fiction inspired by the photo. I’m not doing that this week. Instead, I’m going to respond with a bit of a stream of consciousness post.

When I saw Cyranny’s photo, two things came to mind. First, I saw three birds on telephone wires on a rainy, cold day. My view of them was through a raindrops-covered window with bare tree branches in the background, making me think it was a winter rain. And then I just felt sorry for these three birds outside in the rain on a cold winter day. Those poor birdies.

Second, the 1990 movie starring Goldie Hawn and Mel Gibson, “Bird on a Wire,” popped into my head.

I know I saw the movie, but I don’t remember it at all. So I looked up the synopsis on IMDB and here’s what it said…

Rick has been given a new identity by the FBI for helping convict a drug dealing FBI agent. Fifteen years later, his former fiancé recognizes him. Rick’s FBI ‘minder’ has been replaced by a corrupt agent who helps the drug dealing FBI agent and his accomplice locate him. There are many subsequent chase scenes as Rick and girlfriend revisit his former haunts.

That didn’t help. I still don’t recall anything about the movie. And I have no interest in watching it again, as it apparently wasn’t a very memorable movie. It only got a 6.0 (out of 10) star rating from IMDB, a Metascore of 36 (out of 100) from movie critics, and a 26% on the Rotten Tomatoes Tomatometer.

Apologies to Cyranny and anyone else who was expecting a piece of short flash fiction.

One Minute Fiction — The Collection

“Do you like them?” Kevin asked his date, Annette, when he opened a cabinet and slowly pulled out a draw filled with insects laid out on a felt board. “I use these to make pins, earrings, broaches, bracelets, rings, and even necklaces.”

“They’re beautiful,” Annette said.

“I made them all by hand,” Kevin said proudly.

“That’s impressive,” Annette said. “What are they made of?”

“What do you mean?” Kevin asked her.

“Are they made out of plastic? Metal? Wood?” Annette asked.

Kevin laughed. “No, of course not. They are actual insects that I caught, dipped them live into epoxy and cured them in a special kiln I created. Finally, to give them their sheen, I put a thin coat of polyurethane on them. That brings out the brilliant colors.”

Annette excused herself, ran to Kevin’s bathroom, and threw up.


Written for Cyranny’s One-Minute Fiction prompt. Photo credit: Cyranny.

One-Minute Fiction — The Mural

I told him I wanted him to paint a mural on my building. Something artistic, something unique, something people would notice, would remember, would appreciate.

At the unveiling, I saw something frightening, something macabre, something scary, something that made children cry and adults scream in horror.

I loved it.


Written for Cyranny’s One-Minute Fiction prompt. Photo credit: Cyranny.

One Minute Fiction — The Birthday Present

Happy birthday, Dad. Here’s your birthday present. It’s on the coffee table opposite your favorite chair. Yeah, that’s right, the black wicker chair with the green cushions. I hope you don’t mind, but when I feel sad and depressed, and especially when I miss you the most, I sit in it. You know, on days like today, your birthday.

I know you can’t open it, Dad. So I’ll open it for you, if that’s okay with you. Oh look, it’s a framed photo of the two of us when I graduated from college. You always loved this photo, didn’t you, Dad? I’m going to put it right here on the coffee table so you can see it from your favorite chair.

I miss you, Dad.


Written for Cyranny’s One Minute Fiction Challenge. Note: this is flash fiction, my father died in 1988, so no condolences are necessary.

One Minute Fiction — A Dead Giveaway

“Did you take care of it?” Dave asked Butch as they were approaching Butch’s house.

“Yeah,” Butch said. “I told you I’d take care of it and I took care of it. Whaddya think, I don’t know what I’m doing? I know what I’m doing, dammit.”

“You sure, Butch, that you buried the body where no one will ever find it?” Dave asked.

“Absofuckinglutely, Boss,” Butch said. “No one will ever find that body.”

Standing on the sidewalk directly in front of Butch’s house, Dave said, “You buried it in the front yard of your house, didn’t you, Butch?”

“Yeah, I did, Boss. How’d you know?” Butch asked.

Dave pointed to a spot on the grass about halfway between the house’s front porch and the sidewalk. “I think the vic’s hand sticking up in the grass is a dead giveaway, Butch.”


Written for Cyranny’s One Minute Fiction prompt, where she shares one of her photos and asks us to type our whole story in a minute or less.