FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Wasted Silence~

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/10/23/25-october-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, listen to the sound of silence.

Here’s my contribution:

Wasted Silence

Sharon began suffering transient yet debilitating migraines just after her 38^th birthday. The university physicians tested, then verified; the proliferating tumor was inoperable. These experts diagnosed her a death sentence.

Sharon wept.

In the following weeks the blinding lights and piercing throbs which tormented her evolved into sounds, at first discordant tones and dissonant melodies, then finally they blossomed into full, gorgeous symphonies. The cancer was killing Sharon, yet she embraced it, for never had she any musical talents.

Upon her deathbed Sharon wept anew. She considered this glorious music wasted on someone like her, someone who could not share.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Do Unto Others~

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/05/01/3-may-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, rest your bones.

Here’s my contribution:

Do Unto Others

The paper was stowed within a corked, blue bottle, opaquing in the surf, well on its way to becoming sea-glass. Hand scribed letters, themselves masterpieces, were woven into a simple phrase.

Do unto others.

Jolie, admiring her find as she approached the resort entrance, read aloud and became suddenly woozy, the sun pierced, as if she’d been wandering a desert.

The hotel facade appeared to bubble, sections sloughed revealing human skulls with hollow eye sockets. The paper slid from her grasp and settled upon the walkway.

Impregnated within the script, given life by utterance, the swallowing darkness bade Jolie welcome.

jKb