Sarah hadn’t seen him since he was deployed to Afghanistan eight months earlier. They were planning to get married when his tour was over. But then he called her from Germany to tell her that he had been wounded in action and would be returning home in a few days. Fortunately, his wounds were relatively mild.
He asked her to meet him at the Chelsea Beach Bar, where they had first met when they were both there for spring break during their junior year at college. They had been almost inseparable ever since. Until the day he shipped out.
She was anxiously waiting for him near the bar, anticipating seeing him for the first time in eight months. She saw him wave at her, but noticed as he got closer that he was limping. When he finally got to her, they embraced, holding tight to one another.
When he told her he was shipping back in a few days, with tears in her eyes she said, “Then let’s make the most of our time together.”
Written for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Photo credit: Michelle DeAngelis.
Roland took his hand and wiped the moisture from his bedroom window so that he could get a better view of the road that led right to his house. Their house was situated at the end of what his parents used to call a “T-intersection.” He remembered when he would lie in bed at night and watch the light from the headlights of the cars coming along the road toward the intersection. The light, sliced into horizontal lines by the partially open blinds that used to cover his window, would travel up the opposite wall and across ceiling of his room. It was almost hypnotic and the light show put on by the cars’ headlights would help him fall asleep.
Back then there were a lot of cars. But now everyone was gone. He was alone. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d last seen a car drive toward his house and watched the horizontal lines travel across his room’s ceiling. Or since he’d last seen another human being.
Written for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Photo credit: wildverbs.
Early that fall morning, the family piled into the minivan to embark on a brief vacation. As they drove out into the countryside, Jeremy was looking out of the car’s window and was fascinated by the low hanging mist. He asked his father about it.
“This is common when the weather shifts from warm summer sunrises to crisp, cooler autumn mornings,” John said. “It’s often called evaporation fog.”
“What makes it happen?” his daughter asked.
“Well, Jessica,” John began, “the air over the land cools down at night. But once the sun starts to rise, a thin layer of air is warmed. The morning dew evaporates into this thin, warm, moist layer of air and mixes with the cooler air from the land and condensation occurs, which forms a layer of fog. It looks like steam rising above the land.”
Turning to his mother, who handles the kids’ homeschooling, Jeremy asked, “Is that right, Momma?”
“Kids,” Joanna said, “This is my vacation, too. We’ll study all about morning mists when we get back home.”
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Photo credit: Jodi McKinney.
“I love it!” Jen said. “A puppy peeking out of a frosted doughnut hole with chocolate jimmies on it. And with chocolate fudge cookie cap with blueberries on top. It’s adorable.”
“Are you kidding me?” Adam said. “That is the stupidest figurine I’ve ever seen. Look at it. It’s shit.”
“It’s crazy cute is what it is,” said Jen.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing. I’m Hanz Grubner, the curator, and this piece you’re admiring comes from the world famous House of Leventhal,” Grubner explained. “This particular figurine was crafted by Herr Leventhal during his canine years and this is his most whimsical work.”
“See?” Jen said to Adam. “It’s whimsical.”
Grubner turned to Jen and said, “Young lady, you have exquisite taste. This figurine is valued at $2,500.” Then he turned to Adam and said, “And you, young man, have none.”
“$2,500 for a porcelain dog popping out of a doughnut?” Adam said. “As I said, it’s shit. I’m leaving. Are you coming?” he asked Jen.
She just glared at him as they departed.
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Photo credit: Yinglan.
Jerry glanced at the piece of paper and double checked the address written on it to see if he was at the right place. He was.
Ignoring the signs saying “No Entry” that were affixed to posts leading up to the building, Jerry proceeded to walk toward the double doors at the building’s entrance.
Suddenly appearing out of nowhere, a uniformed guard stepped in front of Jerry and held up his hand. “Don’t you know how to read?” he barked.
Startled, Jerry jumped back, but quickly gathered himself and said, “This is the address I was given by the concierge.” He handed the piece of paper to the guard, who looked at it and then tore it up.
“What are you doing?” Jerry yelled.
“You cannot enter here.”
“Okay,” said Jerry. “Then tell me where I can enter.”
“There’s been a mistake,” the guard said. “Go back to the concierge at the way station and tell him that you must first be sent to purgatory before you can be permitted to enter heaven.”
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Photo credit: Yarnspinnerr.