The End of a Marriage (Sunday Photo Fiction)


She watched him fill the bird feeder, wanting to tell him not to bother. What was his name again? Bob? Bill? Tom? Tom. Yes, that seemed familiar. But it didn’t matter–he’d never understand her even if she was able to get the words out. And the effort was just too much. Continue reading

The Umbrella

Umbrella promptJane hugged the umbrella to her, like a teddy bear, then extended it straight out like a sword. She had always been a happy child, never missing something she’d never had. The operation, finally safe to do at age 7, had been a success–She could finally see. Things she had known by sound and touch and, sometimes, taste, she now learned anew by sight. Looking around her recovery room at first, her eyes had lit upon my face and then my open umbrella, thrown haphazardly under the only chair in the room.

“What’s that, Mama?” Continue reading

That January Day (Sunday Photo Fiction)

Sunday Photo Fiction July 12Julian Pratt had caught the third train of the morning, not wanting the press of the first two, which were express to London and full to the doors with the assorted grim-faced men and women who worked these days in the City, moving real and virtual money from here to there and back again.

Julian was in no rush this morning. As a pensioner, he was in no rush most mornings. In fact, it had been nearly two decades since he’d had to rush anywhere. Continue reading

The Rose Jar

I was 11 when I found my mother’s jar of teeth. It hadn’t been lost or even hidden. I’d actually been dusting the container for years, not having the slightest inclination as to the contents within. I couldn’t even say what made that day unlike the rest. Curiosity, of course. But I’d always had that and, more often than not, gotten into trouble because of it. Continue reading

FFfAW #21: Seventy Years Gone

Grapevine Photo Prompt

Photo thanks to Vanessa Rodriguez

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers #21

I’m experimenting with Deep 1st POV this week. Please let me know if it works! I used some lines from “In Flanders Fields” by John McCrae – a great WWI poem. I’m a bit over the 175-word limit this week. Sorry about that!


In Flanders fields the poppies blow, between the crosses…whose to know?

“Grandpa, this way.”

“Dad, are you okay? Continue reading