FFfAW — The Heirloom

B94C29B6-96C9-40F1-8309-A94FF0F857B4Imogene looked out of the window as Franz slowly made his way down the narrow alley. She had pleaded with him not to go, but he told her that it was his duty, as a man and as a patriot to go. “For God and country,” he told her, “et pour toi, mon cher.”

Imogene wondered if she’d ever see Franz again. She looked at the chronograph he had given her just before he left. It had been his father’s and his grandfather’s. He told her to take care of the heirloom for him while he was gone. He didn’t want anything to happen to it while he was at war.

She knew she would cherish the watch in his absence. A part of him, something near and dear, would be with her. She would look at it, observing every second until his return.

She stuck her arm out of the window for one last wave at Franz. The timepiece slipped off her wrist and crashed on the street below.

“That sucks,” Imogene sighed.

(175 words)

Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt from Priceless Joy. Photo credit: ENISA.

FFfAW — State-of-the-Art

“I don’t believe it,” Frank said. “How does something like this happen? This ballpark is supposed to be state-of-the-art.”

“I’m pissed,” Donnie said. “You’d think they’d have a contingency plan for something like this.”

“Yeah, well maybe they’ll fix it and the game can continue,” Frank said.

“This is why I’m not a fan of these damn retractable roofs,” Donnie said. “They close the damn thing for the rain and then one lightning strike blows the transformer and they can’t get the damn thing open again.”

The PA system clicked on and a voice boomed from the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, as we announced earlier, the lightning strike disabled the ballpark’s retractable roof. Unfortunately, we are also unable to get the stadium’s ventilation system, including the overhead fans and air conditioning, working and the temperature on the field is increasing rapidly. Therefore, we are postponing today’s game. Keep you ticket stubs, which will be good for admission into the rescheduled game later in the season.”

“And they call this progress,” Frank groused.

(171 words)

Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Photo credit: Yarnspinnerr.

FFfAW — Earthling Encounter


“I see life forms,” said one of the beings. “We must approach them slowly and carefully so as not to frighten them.” As they moved closer to the life forms, the life forms did not move or run away in panic.

Once in front of the first one, the elder being said, “We come in peace, earthling. We wish to bestow upon you our friendship and our wisdom.”

The earthling did not move. “Do you have your translator set to the right language?” one of the other beings asked the elder.

“Yes,” the elder responded. “According to the navigation program, we are in the land of Iowa and the language is English.”

“Why is this life form unresponsive?” asked another being.

“I don’t know.” He then reached out a long, thin tentacle and poked the life form, which toppled to the ground.

“We must go back to the ship,” said the other being. “We have already terminated life form. “The Dear Leader will not be pleased.”

(167 words)

Another twofer written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy and for today’s one-word prompt, “bestow.” Photo Credit: Ellespeth

FFfAW — The Wreath

img_1229“It’s a wreath, sweetie,” Harriet said to her daughter, who had asked what the large, decorative ring on the door was.

“What’s it for?” Susan asked.

“They’re mostly for decoration. Pretty, isn’t it?” Susan suddenly darted up to the door and started touching the wreath. “Sweetie, come back here,” Harriet called out.

“Mommy, there are little cotton fluff balls all over this wreath,” Susan shouted back.

Harriet ran up the walk and grabbed Susan’s hand. “You can look, but don’t touch, sweetie.” She started to pull her back toward the street when the large door opened.

A girl a few years older than Susan, eyes red and slightly puffy, stood still for a few seconds. “Did you know my daddy?” she asked. “He died last week.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harriet said. “We were just admiring your wreath.”

“Someone brought it to his funeral yesterday and I thought it was pretty, so we put it on our door,” the girl explained. “It reminds me of my daddy. He was soft and fluffy, too.”

(172 words)

Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Picture credit: Goroyboy.

FFfAW — The Shuck Stop

7747A712-E43A-45A6-83BC-AF76E7D33646“It’s perfect, don’t you think?” Oliver asked Dan.

“I don’t know, Ollie,” Dan answered. “It looks kinda ramshackle to me.”

“Nothing a little spit and polish won’t take care of,” Oliver said. “Just imagine, Dan. A bunch of picnic tables in front and on one side. People coming from miles around to buy fresh, juicy, raw oysters by the bucket. Hell, Dan, we wouldn’t even have to shuck ‘em. We can lend patrons shucking knives and rubber gloves and they can shuck their own oysters.”

“But maybe some people won’t wanna shuck them themselves,” Dan said.

“Fine, we can charge fifty cents a bucket extra to shuck the oysters for them,” Oliver said.

“I don’t know, Ollie,” Dan said.

“C’mon, man,” Oliver said. “Can’t you see it? We can call it Ollie’s Oyster Shack.”

Dan screwed up his face. “Why not Dan’s Oyster Shack?”

“Okay,” Oliver said. “We’re partners, right? We’ll call it Dan and Ollie’s Shuck Stop.”

“Hey, I like that,” Dan said, a large grin lighting up his face.

“Woo hoo,” shouted Oliver.

(175 words)

Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Photo credit: Yinglan.