Flash fiction are complete whole stories, told in few words. Some can be complete at 100 words, some at 1000 words, and the rest anywhere in between.
Below are some more examples of flash written by our writers; each one a tiny, shining gem.
Walking at Flamborough, he tells me he can fly.
I see him unzip, exposing a small undernourished chest.
Watch him unfurl, from a fishtail parka, khaki dragon wings.
His hooded fur-framed face, wild as the waves below,
commands the wind to take him.
And I believed.
Later, weeks, months maybe…
He took his solo flight.
He just flew.
A Hand to Upset the Wake of Vultures in Paradise
The sun touches the horizon, the fingers of one hand creating ripples in the pool, she gently rubs her swollen belly.
“Hey, pretty lady!”
A scruffy, little kid. A bright wide smile. A heavy weight beyond his years.
Scavenging; selling bracelets, hair braids, henna tattoos.
Gangs control 30,000 Thai street children.
She gives him $10 for a red bracelet.
The sun touches the horizon, twiddling her favourite red bracelet, she watches her granddaughter splash in the pool.
“Hey, pretty lady!”
She takes the hand of a scruffy little kid.
“I’m going to get you out of here.”
You can see from Kinder Scout to Salford Quay from Cowens Edge
Molly and Derek. Molly dragging him with the invisible thread of matrimony. Baleful, reluctant, resentful and laden with sandwiches.
“You can see for miles!” Manchester, at their feet, shimmering mouse city. Etihad Stadium – roaring City fans silenced by space.
She stepped on the precipitous rock, scree, lake and track many yards below, and was Buffeted by wind.
Push. Starfish scream – thud.
30 years done. Home stripped. Feeding vultures are called a wake.
“Take what you want. “
“Its what she would have wanted.”
Flying vultures are a kettle.
One man, one chair, TV.
“Get in there, Sterling!”
A Bearded’s One of the Few Types of Vulture, That Isn’t Bald
At Dad’s cottage, checking up, during lockdown drizzle.
“Dad! The kettle’s boiling over! Did you FORGET?”
Hunched by the window, he’s shivering,
Binoculars pointing, whispering, ‘Wild vulture o’er yonder Pennines!’
Flying vulture group = kettle
Billowing waves, like steam,
Seeming co-ordinated avian actions.
Flying in individual directions.
Like individuals during Covid pandemic.
Dad struggling, to check the tea’s mashing……Sighing.
I’ve upset him……I can tell.
* * *
Birdspotting, my peace-offering.
“Very rare, bearded vultures, you know,”
Shows superior knowledge.
To Have and Be Sold
6 Coral Bridesmaid Dresses.
2 x size 12
2 x size 14
1x age 4
1 x age 7
Willing to separate into separate items:
Adult’s £35 each / Children’s £25 each.
6 Coral men’s cravats and handkerchiefs £60 or £12 each.
All Brand New with tags.
Direct message Emma for more details, and to arrange postage or safe collection.
Look on my works ye mighty
Gods of the ancient world awake and rage. Gods create, man desecrates. Britannia is back and sets about reclaiming her kingdom battling the dragons of industry and finance.
Dana, (celtic) Goddess of the natural world throws her hands in despair and summons her brother Camulos – war god – to reclaim her fiefdom and lay waist the structures of prosperity.
She flings off the shackles of co-operation – insidious words drip into millions of sleeping ears – Brexit.
Unpacified still, she flings pestilence over the entire world – Covid-19. This is one angry goddess!
Man – laugh in the face of immortals at your peril.
They’re awake. Distant sirens, tangled thorns bounce back, my shield. “Where’s gear?” glowed text. Damn!! Blast!!! Crushed it to smithereens. I’m dead. Finders keepers, hungry, keen. Who will be first ?
Vultures swoops. Gun shoots. Pigs scavenge, jangle keys, I live on. Youthful brashness vanished in darkness, fear flooded; him, them, owls.
Still burrowing through. Yellow beam follows blues-two. Dog barks.
“A victim, easy meat for County Lines,” said Judge, granting a second chance. College took me back. I learnt to cook, chef at Brambles, life’s good. Then, my mobile rang out.