Tag Archives: story

Enough

“…that’s when they said I should leave.” Mike searched the bottom of his glass.
“Hit me again, will ya Sammy?” he pushed his bone-dry shot glass towards the man behind the bar.

Sam popped the top from the bottle and poured another shot.

“Cheers,” he said, scooping up the drink. “You just can’t trust them. None of them. Not a single one.”

Sammy raised an eyebrow.

“Not you Sammy. You’re alright. Hit me again.”

Sam breathed deeply and poured another shot.

Mike nodded in vague appreciation.

“It’s the others.

Hit me.”

Sammy considered it.
He considered it long and hard.


 

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This story, my weekly dip into trying to write something creative, is part of Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. If you’ve taken the time to read this far then I thank you but please take a few more minutes to go read some of the other wonderful entries.

 

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Big Shop

Sunglasses, vest-top, short shorts, liberally applied factor 50 and flip-flops. Aside from grabbing the canvas bags and car keys, Sandra was ready. The supermarket wasn’t far, but today was Wednesday – “Big Shop” day, and she was buggered if she was going to carry it up the hill.

Two left turns, a roundabout and one set of traffic lights and apparently Sandra had crossed time zones. Sunglasses were removed and wipers were set to stun. Two climate changes later, she arrived.

“The great British summer,” she mocked as she reached for the umbrella tucked inside the emergency wellington boots behind her seat.


Oh my word, it’s been a while but here we go with another slice of Friday Fictioneers. I’ve seen this prompt before – choosing then to let my imagination go on a strange journey for 40 days and 40 nights.

Be sure to check out the other entries for this week’s prompt by CLICKING THIS LINK!

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Sam rests his case

“What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

Sam had often thought about the words his grandmother used to whisper to him, time and time again – often whilst he’d lay with his head upon her lap as she ran her frail fingers through his scraggly mop of blonde hair.

Many moons had passed since those prepubescent days. Business meetings had replaced after-school kick-abouts, glasses of wine usurped juice cartons and the train window had become his grandma’s lap. He wore his hair differently now; all heavily gelled and styled. She wouldn’t have approved.

The train tracks faltered and Sam’s head was displaced from the cold glass with a startling bump. He looked down at the pile of papers in his lap and began to build his next defence.


A piece inspired by the Monday Finish The Story Challenge. Click here to find out more!

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Awake

Drip
Drip
Drip

He shuffled in the bed. A calculated shuffle; just wiggly enough and just noisy enough to wake his sleeping partner.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.
“No,” came the muffled reply, deep beneath the winter-thick duvet.
“The tap is doing it again,” he said quietly.
“The what is doing what? Shut up. Go to sleep.”
“The dripping thing. The tap. The…” he paused, grasping in the night for the foreign word native to this land.
“…faucet!” he exclaimed.

Silence followed.

It was dark. There was no way he could see it, but boy could he feel “the look”.


faucet-21-224x3001Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the freshly published Rochelle. Join in the 100 word flash fiction fun or simply go read the other entries here.

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Walkies

I used to love it when he took me for walks. The longer the better.
We’d often end up off the beaten track; looking for exciting, unexplored areas behind the city. A quiet escape from the usual bustle of everyday life.

It was tiring. She was always quite demanding but the older she got the more those demands irked. Scratching at the door to be walked, or for food, or to see her friends. The incontinence was bad enough, but one day she turned and bit me.

Last Sunday, I strolled behind as I took her for one last walk.

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and to all those that read and comment. I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve come up with this week.

Friday Fictioneers. Your favourite Friday flash fiction… every Wednesday.

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