Tag Archives: flash fiction

June 15, 2017

A Date with Death

A Date with Death

The moon was a milky corpse eye shining over the Lopinot Estate, Trinidad’s most haunted site. Inside, flashlights beams swept back and forth.

One disappeared.

“Honey?” There was no answer. She listened. A scream came from out in the jungle. Just an animal. Probably.

Creak. She hid her light. Come on, she thought.

Nothing.

A light appeared in the next room. “Hey, I found the basement!” he said, poking his head out. “It looks like there’s a grave. Let’s go down and sit in the dark.”

“Awesome!” She kissed him hard. “I love you. This is the best anniversary ever.”

I wrote this story for my wife Leah. As of tomorrow we will have been married for sixteen years, and I’m sure one of our anniversaries in the future will be spent exploring a haunted house in the dead of night looking for ghosts.

18 Comments | tags: anniversary, fiction, flash fiction, ghost hunting, ghosts, Haunted house, humor, Trinidad | posted in Dark, Friday Fictioneers, Light

June 1, 2017

Teddy Bear Brawl

By David Stewart

Teddy Bear Brawl

Teddy bears’ picnic, my ass.

Those pretentious little Paddingtons thought they could leave us out, just because they sit on the bed and we live in the closet.

Baby-doll saw them sneaking out the window. We found them under a tree in the backyard.

“Let us join,” Baby-doll whined.

Somebody, probably I-Couldn’t-Give-A-Care Bear, sneers, “Back off vinyls. Plushies only.”

That’s when the Pooh hit the fan.

I beat the stuffing out of a few, and soon we were all muddy and ripped.

At least we cleaned up with some Windex. Those bloody bears got a trip to the washing machine.

20 Comments | tags: fiction, fight, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, humor, teddy bear, Teddy Bears' Picnic, toys | posted in Friday Fictioneers, Light

November 23, 2016

The Forbidden Door

By David Stewart

The Forbidden Door

I made my way through the inky blackness, walking ninja-like towards the door. A thick chain barred my way. Just like the queen to take such extreme measures to protect her riches. But I knew that she kept the key under her pillow, and I had stolen it.

I unlocked the chain and lowered it silently to the floor. As I drew open the door, a hallowed light burst from the chamber within, revealing the treasure I so desperately sought.

The light snapped on. “Harold, are you getting into the Thanksgiving pies?”

I wiped meringue off my lips. “No, dear.”

24 Comments | tags: fiction, flash fiction, forbidden, Friday Fictioneers, night, pies | posted in Friday Fictioneers

July 27, 2016

The Old Man and the Seafood

By David Stewart

The Old Man and the Seafood

Shoppers meandered around the store in hip waders, shopping carts half submerged.

“How did you come up with this idea?” the reporter asked.

Jeff grinned. “I thought it was about time someone applied the self-pick produce model to seafood. With seafood, freshness is everything. Here, everything is alive up until you buy it. No expiration dates needed.”

An old man shuffled up in oversized boots. “Excuse me, I just need a can of tuna.”

“No cans here, I’m afraid,” Jeff said, throwing the reporter another grin. “Everything’s fresh.” He handed the man a spear gun. “Bluefins are in aisle 30.”

17 Comments | tags: fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, funny, quirky, seafood, self-pick, tuna | posted in Friday Fictioneers, Light

July 6, 2016

Oranges for ET

By David Stewart

Traitor.

That’s been my nickname for six months now. Hey, I’m just a fruit seller, making a living. Maybe even a profit.

“Morning,” I say to the first alien. Twenty are lined up behind him. He slings his rifle, holds up twelve fingers, and I bag up a dozen oranges in exchange for a glowing cube which I guess is money. I’ve got 518 so far.

Later when the aliens all die, scientists discover that the Vitamin C was slowly poisoning them. Suddenly I’m a hero.

The government is really curious about those glowing cubes.

Now the real profit comes.

33 Comments | tags: aliens, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, oranges, Poison, science-fiction | posted in Dusk, Friday Fictioneers

June 22, 2016

It starts with stealing Donald Trump’s jet

By David Stewart

“We’re gonna get murdered.” I unlocked Donald Trump’s private jet with stolen keys.

“It was your choice,” Jack said. “You wanna switch?”

“No.” I climbed into the cockpit and consulted the WikiTheft page on flying a stolen jet.

Somehow we took off. Somehow we flew to Mexico City and crash-landed in the busiest airport in Central America.

Somehow we spray-painted “To Mexico, love Donny” on the side and escaped the authorities.

“It’s your turn,” I said as we sat on a sidewalk, trying to think how to get home.

Jack looked thoughtful. “I think I’d better pick Truth this time.”

*FYI*

14 Comments | tags: Donald Trump, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, funny, jet, Mexico City, truth or dare, WikiTheft | posted in Friday Fictioneers, Light

June 15, 2016

Grandpa and the Piano of Secrets

By David Stewart

I was sure the piano had eaten Grandpa. I only stepped away for a moment and he vanished.

As I approached, I could smell roasting flesh. Dear God, it had sucked him in and was cooking him!

“You monster!” I shouted, grappling frantically at the keys. A door in the knee panel fell open, revealing a ladder.

I found Grandpa in a cellar, hunched over a grill like a barbecuing troll. He spun around, then relaxed.

“I thought Grandma made you guys go vegan?” I said.

“Six years ago,” he said. “Right about the time I took up ‘piano lessons’.”

16 Comments | tags: fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, funny, grandfather, meat, Piano, quirky, secret, vegan | posted in Friday Fictioneers

June 1, 2016

Spring Break with the Merry Maidens

By David Stewart

The sun sets on twenty drunken college students dancing in the cabin, with bass deep enough to shake the stone circle nearby.

It’s a great success. It’s my cabin after all, an inheritance from my grandmother, the one who gave me this old necklace.

The party spills outside around midnight. Dozens, then scores of men and women gyrate among the stones to the pounding music that is now coming from the ground itself.

The sun rises on me, naked except for Grandma’s old necklace. I’m alone in the stone circle, beer cans mingled with mead cups and carved drinking horns.

Read about the real Merry Maidens

14 Comments | tags: England, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, magic, Merry Maids, other worlds, spring break, stone circle | posted in Dusk, Friday Fictioneers

May 20, 2016

One Stop to Hwajang Station

By David Stewart

Come on, come on. That frantic thought is sculpted into the crowd’s poses and expressions. Some are sitting, but most pace awkwardly.

Far off, they hear the train rumbling. Visible relief flashes from face to face.

It’s an awkward two-minute ride. No eye contact, rocking back and forth, biting fingernails. Come on!

The doors open and people lurch forth, loping crab-like with thighs clenched, men out the right side, women out the left. A moment later, a hundred stall doors slam. A long, protracted sigh.

“They should put these in houses,” someone says.

“Gross! What is this, the Dark Ages?”

*hwajangshil (화장실) is the Korean word for bathroom. This story does not take place in Korea. You can only imagine the sort of world where it does take place.

23 Comments | tags: bathroom, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, funny, 화장실, quirky, trains | posted in Friday Fictioneers, Light

May 2, 2016

Synesthetic Sundae

By David Stewart

Source

The ice cream tasted like Bach, with a hint of rainy day mornings. Alicia savored each snow-day-ecstasy bite and let it slide down her throat like rosy melodrama.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” her father said.

Alicia picked a jazzy green sprinkle out of the chocolate syrup eruption and ate it delicately.

“Honestly, it’s totally my fault. I realize that now.” His voice was blushing, Alicia noticed. She picked out another green sprinkle, this one not quite so jazzy. “Are you listening to me?” She nodded into her sundae.

“It’ll be hard at first, I’m sure. It always is. But we’ll get through it, right?”

She plucked the maraschino cherry from its cozy pillow of whipped cream. It smelled like white clouds in blue skies and bees bumbling through tall grass. She smiled.

Her father smiled back, encouraged. “I knew you’d understand. For now, you’ll stay in the house with your mom. Once I find a place, you can come visit on weekends. We’ll have fun, I promise.”

Alicia’s head snapped up. She saw the sickly-sweet cough syrup look in his eyes. Her stomach suddenly felt pop quiz.

He smiled again. “Eat up, kiddo. It’s going to melt.”

She pushed the sundae away. “It tastes gray,” she said.