Category Archives: Flash fiction

First Line Friday – March 2nd, 2018

9E7CC0CF-2985-42E4-B842-58A87CE951E8The words blurred into one another, every yellowed page like the one before.  I knew that before long, the library would be closing, and a polite steward would come to visit me at my desk. I couldn’t afford to stop my search now. Tonight was the night of the Supermoon. If I were unable to find the words there would be a great calamity in the district and all my searching would have been in vain. I was almost there, of this I was certain. Rapidly flicking through the pages to page 298 I noticed a scribble in the margin. Was this the incantation I had been seeking? Sadly I would not be able to find out as without warning the lights were extinguished and alarms started to sound throughout the previously almost silent hall. 

A highly charged voice came out of the speakers in firm but polite tones, “Ladies and gentlemen, the management apologise for this interruption but we would kindly ask everyone to make their way to the fire exits, there is no cause for panic.”

This was my chance. Picking up the heavy tome, I tucked it under my arm and attempting to suppress my feeling of guilt, concealed it under my cloak. Making my way to the nearest exit I gave my name to the attendant that he may strike it from his list of subscribers, in assurance of my safety, and set off down the road in order that I might continue my researches before the night’s trials that I would have to face if I was to rid the world of this ancient evil for this lunar period at least.

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Sue Vincent’s weekly #Writephoto -Dark


I stood at the side of the  lake  looking up, “yes, it’s almost dark, I thought, so I can get this awful clammy suit off, I have collected what I came for, ” suppressing a slight  giggle at the unintentioned pun. Reaching between my legs I released the carefully concealed catch and the smooth, velvet-like, false skin peeled all the way around. With a little effort, due to the tightness of the fit I was able to pull the head and torso over the top of my scalp to hang like a deflated balloon around my waist before rolling the lower half down my legs to the gound. It lay on the bank, a shapeless porcine, sluglike mass. My whole body shuddered,  “Yuk, ” I thought, “how do they look at themselves in this, it’s creepy. ”

The air felt cool against my scales and once more checking that the shore was deserted I picked up the bundle and walked down to the water’s edge. Slowly,  eagerly, slipping into the cold waters I prepared to swim down to the bottom to meet up with the rest of my clan. Once again I had completed my task and my ever-growing family would continue to expand.

I thought about my encounter the previous evening with the one who said his name was  Brian, “he must have thought that his luck was in when I started coming on to him. Well, he did look a little lonely sitting in the corner. It had been hard work trying to convince him that  my intentions were purely to have a good time. After I had established his capacity to satisfy my needs by having once been married with a family but now alone and in need of some company. He could never have guessed the real reason for my eagerness. If he could see me now he would swear that it had all been a bad dream, very bad, after he had stopped being sick of course. Even the funny video camera he had used, for reference purposes, his words not mine, would have been thrown away I’m sure. I had been a little worried at one stage, wondering if the sample I needed could be collected from where he suggested but we soon sorted that problem out. Now I was able to carry some more of the human sperm back to the colony where it would help in our next spawning. Not too many more trips and there would be enough of us to break free from the waters and start our slow colonisation of the land.”


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Thursday photo prompt – Dusk #writephoto


Frankie turned to his father and in a low voice that reflected both their moods.

“It’s been a great day  out  in the boat Dad, but it’s starting to  get a bit dark, I think, Mum will be waiting. ”

“She’ll be fine, I’m sorry son, I don’t think I’ve ever had such a blank day, we didn’t even get the bait for the real fishing,” his father replied, trying to disguise his disappointment.

They started to reel in the lines with their unbaited hooks, each silver hook shining silver in it’s individual cape of brightly coloured feathers.

With a wry smile John started the small Seagull outboard and turning towards the harbour lights that were just beginning to glow he turned to his son and said. “You’d better just look up at the clouds for those are the only mackerel we’re going to see today.”

Laughing at his poor attempt at a joke, he twisted his wrist and engine whirring at full throttle, they set off for the harbour and home.



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Kat Myrman’s #Twittering Tales. No. 72 Hopewell

Twittering tale 244.jpg

Many people have come to visit me in my aptly named home. Each one putting their misplaced faith in my cool, clear waters. To some I grant a pastiche of what they desire. Their folly feeds my desire in the end as their souls will belong to me. 244c

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#MLMM First Line Friday 2-16-18

“I don’t care what you do with it, I just want it gone,” Richard implored, pointing to the dark brown mole on his chin.

“As I explained to you last week, if I cut it out it could leave you with a rather large, ugly scar, that might not help you in your career, now would it?” Doctor Ambrose replied, hoping that his false look of concern would hide his inner smile. He was the last person to have thought himself jealous of the young man’s good looks but he couldn’t help thinking of the way he had ill-treated his daughter those two years ago. “Perhaps bad deeds do come back to haunt you,” he thought.

“That cream you gave me has done nothing, and as the tests have proved negative I just want it gone, I’m fed up with rubbing cream on my face at the photo sessions, it’s not the real me they see,” Richard whined, feeling foolish for sounding so petulant.

“I thought the photos weren’t concentrating on your face so much,” came the sarcastic reply.

“Well, maybe not but please Doctor, I am really desperate for you to get rid of it, it might even make me look a bit like, you know Kirk Douglas or something.”

Doctor Ambrose leaned back in his chair, he hadn’t thought that he might be helping the young man in some way. that went against the grain somewhat, but he knew he had to act correctly. “Ok, I’ll do it but remember you will have to keep the dressing on for at least four days when it’s done. Come back to me afterwrds and you can thank me then for the cosmetic job.”

After the application of a freezing spray to his patient’s chin the small operation only took a couple of minutes and Richard was free to leave with a large dressing taped to his face. “Thank’s Doctor,” he said as he closed the door to the surgery.

Doctor Ambrose watched him go and laughed, “I wonder if he’ll be so happy when he takes that bandage off and has a look in the mirror. Vain bastard.”

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Sue Vincent’s #Write photo Sanctuary


“Hey, look at this, wow the sound will be great in here, just like St. Paul’s, you know the whispering gallery,” Jane the first violin exclaimed, the nervous excitement lending a sharpness to her voice that I had never heard before. We were all excited though, just beginning to make a name as an occasional string quartet and out of the blue an invitation from the bursar at St. Danae’s girls college. Although we had honed our collected skills on intimate evenings of chamber music in some of the swankiest  little cocktail bars this was big league. By the way I’m second violin, Allan is viola and Suzanne is cello. Jane is our leader in more ways than one.

We weren’t due to perform for another eight hours but as soon as our hosts had shown us the venue we knew that we had to get in and start warming  up. What an opportunity. Trouble was we had to lug our instruments from the van, through the tradesman’s entrance at the side of the stables and down through the gardens. At least it wasn’t an uphill pergola or whatever they’re called.

Passing between the columns  we entered a round dark-brown oak wainscoted chamber. There were a handful of upholstered high-backed chairs on one side and four wooden chairs sitting separately to one side. We assumed these to be ours. With our mouths open in wonder we must have looked like a group of schoolchildren meeting J K Rowling or her creation Harry Potter.

“Let’s give it a go.” Jane enthused, breaking the spell.  We laid our cases to one side and almost in a subdued manner extracted our instruments. With our music stands in front of the chairs it would have looked to anyone coming through the door as though we were playing to an empty hall.

We had decided on a mainly Bach evening so struck up for practise,”The art of fugue,” generally one of his most popular. We wanted to know the musical quality of the dome high above our heads. After a few bars I thought I could hear someone humming along but we were the only ones there and none of my companions would hum and play at the  same time. “Stop, stop a minute,” I said holding my bow in the air, “What is that strange noise, can any  of you hear it?” They all sheepishly nodded their heads, each admitting that they had thought it was one of us but not sure from which of us the sound was emanating. Before we could resume the humming started to get louder, increasing in volume and frequency. It sounded like the wind passing around the doorframe but it was copying the tune we had just been playing.   “It doesn’t do that in St. Pauls,” Suzanne whispered. Allan agreed stating that he was going to have a look round.

“But, there’s nothing to look  round,”I argued,”just bare wooden walls and a few plaster carvings on the ceiling.” I hadn’t taken any notice of the carvings when we entered but looking up we could see that the immaculately carved. figures were cherubs. All had instruments much as ours  forming a quartet and they surrounded a figure of a woman. She was wearing a long evening dress and with her hands clasped in front of her breast in typical singing pose. In our heightened state of mind we all agreed  that perhaps this was not the time to continue practising  until we had spoken to the Bursar and see if there was anything he could tell us about the chamber, perhaps even if it had a reputation for eerie events or characters.


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Kat’s Twittering Tales #71


Bejaisus, Mary, will you come out here and take a look at this.
I’m busy Sean, what have you found that would make you bellow so, like an old heifer?
Some eejit has turned the bloody signs around again, and did I not just bounce my head off da buggers? 249c


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Three line tales #106


We all knew that moving staircases do not all travel at the same speed but how do we judge the quickest climber.

To win this race with the prestige and the substantial cash for reaching the top first relied on luck alone.

Two rounds of rock,scissors,paper and the order of choice was made, let the contest begin.

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Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tuesday


Gary re-read the note she had left for him. He felt sick and betrayed that she had finally taken the decision and left him. To his eyes, all that remained of her, now holding the note on the bench, was a heart of stone. 217 c


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Sue Vincent’s #write photo.


Many people have admired the stone pillar at the side of the lane that leads to the medeival church of San Marco in Firsti but but it is only the locals who feel they know the true builders and the reason for it’s curious structure. I will tell you the story that I was told when I was just a boy.

Cardinal Cadenza smiled but it was a cold, humourless expression of his sadistic nature. Turning to the two black-robed, cringing priests he asked them to confirm that the nun Sister Dometia had really confessed to the heresy that appeared to afflict so many of the order known as the. “Poor Clares.” They showed him the scrap of parchment and pointed out the scrawl which was purported to be Sister Dometia’s mark. “That is all I need,” he thought. Pressing his fingers to his lips he thought for a moment and then the decision was made. He had been toying with a new punishment for heretics and this would be the ideal opportunity for him to show these heathen that the work of our Lord was just and transgressors could be shown mercy if they turned from their ways and repented their sins. He ordered the two priests to take the prisoner to the lower cell where the stonemason would be waiting for her. The priests left and descended to the lower dungeon where they found Sister Dometia kneeling in prayer in the corner of her cell. Clad only in a woollen blanket they led her down two flights of steps to the room where they saw the mason and his team waiting.  They stood around a wooden coffin  and stripping the nun naked they told her to lie down in the coffin.  All were impressed that even though she knew her probable fate Sister Dometia maintained her vow of silence and stoically lay on her back, arms folded across her breast, in the coffin. The masons then started to trowel cement into the coffin until only her face was showing. When the coffin was filled with the cold, hard, liquid stone the men all left her in this nightmare situation. In the morning when they returned the cement had set and there only remained a corpse in the coffin. They smashed the wood and stood the pillar upright with the nun’s dead face set in a rictus smile looking out. The pllar was then placed at the entrance to the church as a warning to all.


Filed under Alternative history, Flash fiction, Inspired by fable, Self compositions, Whimsical