FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Super 8~

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

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/10/07/2-october-2015/

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

Come, enjoy a Snickers.

Here’s my contribution:

Super 8

The motel was called Super 8. Charlotte thought how apropos that name as she surveilled the vehicles in the lot below.

Eight.

They were all driverless, quiet, yet she couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being watched. They had been trapped here a week, no cell service, no wi-fi, a single Snickers remaining.

As Charlotte walked to 306 to check on Billy the Suburban began to purr, gravel crunched softly as the wheels tracked.

Would help come?

Billy and his bag were gone. From below, Charlotte heard crunching again as Billy broke across the lot.

The vehicles roared to life.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Anywhere Carnival~

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

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/10/07/2-october-2015/

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

Come, there’s a thrill around every turn.

Here’s my contribution:

Anywhere Carnival

Nickle got himself two corndogs and a Pepsi, then settled in for the show.

Yesterday had been a bust. All that work, slinking in during the wee hours, shimmying up the chains and fiddling with a narrow rasp file just enough so the links would be weakened but not noticeably. The links hadn’t been detected on the morning check but they had unfortunately held firm.

That meant Nickle had to go in again the following night, last night. Do a little more slinking and shimmying, and rasping.

But today was surely the day.

Nickle was certain.

“Higher. Higher,” they shouted.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Fly On the Wall~

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

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/09/30/2-october-2015-2/

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

Come, see what I see.

Here’s my contribution:

Fly On the Wall

Simon was a sneaky bastard, and quite savvy. He was also fed up with the bullshit at school. So, he wrote this little program which allow him to remotely access the camera and microphone on any computer. The innovative part was he had encoded the Trojan into the digital images on his social media. Simon could now look back at whomever was stalking him.

Oh, what he found!

Hell, it was only fair, right? These douchebags were trolling him, and now he was inside, watching, listening, and recording all their dirty little secrets.

He could already count the extortion proceeds.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Leap Of Faith~

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

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/09/02/4-september-2015/

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

Come, share some exhilaration.

Here’s my contribution:

Leap Of Faith

She taunted, “You’re too afraid. You can’t possibly love me.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” Philip called down from the third floor window. “Please don’t leave me.”

“You lack faith. And, sadly, it’s disturbing.”

She turned to walk away, but slowly. She was waiting.

“I can prove it.”

“You’ve had your opportunities, Philip, and you’ve squandered them.”

“Name it. I’ll do anything.” Bingo.

“Anything? Like wrestle an alligator?”

Philip was nodding emphatically, leaning way out, his face twisted in agony. “Yes.”

“Like eat dog shit?”

“Anything.”

He couldn’t resist. Her control overwhelmed him.

“Show me.

“Here boy.

“Go on.

“NOW!”

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~The Artist’s Method~

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

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/08/19/21-august-2015/

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

Come, celebrate with the birthday boy.

Here’s my contribution:

The Artist’s Method

The crimson plume had nearly scorched off Oscar’s face. He rubbed thumb and forefinger across his brow and giggled.

I’ve been a naughty boy!

He peeked above the parapet as sirens warbled. Oscar was so excited he thought he might pee himself, so he twisted it closed. And giggled again. He thought about the mother screaming when she found her bound daughter. Oscar had smashed her head with of all things a frying pan, blew out the pilot and turned on the burners, then quickly lit a birthday candle on the far end of the apartment before making his wish.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Dust~

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

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/08/12/14-august-2015/

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

Come, enjoy another oldie. These bring back fond memories.

Here’s my contribution:

Dust

The facility far beneath the vacant cinder-block structure had been closed two years, a defunct burger front above. This reticent spicule of urban sprawl on the edge of Harrisonburg forever unsuspecting. Experiments, cries for mercy, now ghostly whispers wafting up twelve stories of cement throat, echoing into deserted prep zones once deploying manipulated strains of polyunsaturated fat. Something new flitted from the depths; like burnt smolders of paper, seething, came the vectors. Such lovely moths. Beautiful metamorphosis married biochemistry. Paralytic liquid secreted as wings unfurled, dried to dust, dispersed during gyroscopic flight.

Nearby, recess bells marked the beginning.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~I Pray You Sing (A Letter From Rachel)~

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

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/08/05/7-august-2015/

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

Come, let your body rest before you begin your next fantastic journey.

This, from May 2012.

Here’s my contribution:

I Pray You Sing (a letter from Rachel)

Dearest Mother,

I’m sorry. I haven’t always been easiest or prettiest and certainly I’ve let you down. Please understand, I’ve been angry. Children can be. So I ran.

Laying here, grasses crushed beneath, I wonder, can I still feel? Soothing sun. Coaxing breeze. Branches sway. Naked. As I am. Unblinking, imagining our world whole, yet, color fades, Mother, shudder, my heart stops.

Now, I traverse this awakening of permanent sleep, my understanding greater, my love for you ever deeper.

Left me here. Alone.

Cry for me not, Mother. I pray you sing, for I am coming Home.

Ever yours,

Rachel

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~He Called Himself Evan Williams~

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

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/07/29/31-july-2015/

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

Come, sure the first sip might be nasty, but give it a try.

I’ve been out of the loop, my friends. Life has been pitching some wicked sliders. Be that as it may…

Here’s my contribution:

He Called Himself Evan Williams

Humans are pack animals after all; they need companionship to survive, or risk insanity. For Tripp Bennet the habit started as a way to obtain company while travelling for work. He found it quite easy. Any night in every town there’s always a meeting. Tripp would arrive after things had started, noticeably fidget while fingering his white coin, then leave before the close. Inevitably, someone would follow. Tripp didn’t care who, he was equal opportunity. ‘What’s your name’ and ‘how long you been sober’ would lead to more, even if the mark resisted.

Always more.

Tripp suffered a mighty thirst.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~The Tranquil Garden~

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

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/05/06/8-may-2015/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, relax in the Tranquil Garden.

Here’s my contribution:

The Tranquil Garden

“I wish you were dead.”

The words hung in the air like the cigarette smoke Tad would belch out, stretching wider with each passing second. Mary choked on her tears.

I’m strong, damnit. Why do I get weak around him?

“Then do something about it. Come on, be a man for once in your life.” Tad clenched his fist.

“Go ahead, do it! Hit me!”

He relaxed his hand. “You’re not worth it.”

“Coward.” She shoved him as hard as she could. “Fucking coward! Hit me!” She shoved him again, spilling his beer.

In the end she got her wish.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Beyond The Secret Door~

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

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/04/08/10-april-2015/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, see what lurks beyond the secret door.

Here’s my contribution:

Beyond The Secret Door

“When Marshal’s guys rolled the car back so the electrician could access the relay station underneath, some stones from the back wall collapsed in.”

Sheriff Shoemacher swung his finger like he was stealing a taste of cake batter. “Not that way.” The deputy climbed down into the 5-foot square hole which housed the circuitry. He directed his flashlight beam into a dark recess which traveled beneath the old Red Caboose Museum and platform on which the Sheriff was standing. “That way.”

Shoemacher circled to the far side of the hole. In the shadowy depths of the recess was a door.

jKb