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
Andy checked his phone one more time. Julie’s text hadn’t changed.
“Meet me @ pk. Usual plc. 11am.”
He was only 25 minutes late. Although he was standing in her favorite place–the brick wall leading to the outbuilding that served hot chocolate in the winter–Julie was nowhere in sight. Continue reading
Julian 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
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
Time is irrelevant; place is everything.
That had been the first, and most important, lesson my father had taught me. “Wanderers, or what other people call spirits, transcend time. Instead, they haunt a place–a specific location–even if it changes as the years go forward. Or backward.” Continue reading
This week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: Photo prompt with story to be 100-175 words.
I’d always imagined the End of Days as bleaker, blacker, somewhat more desolate. Well, okay, I’ve never really imagined the End at all. But in the movies, it was not nearly this serene. So maybe they’d got it wrong. Or have I? Continue reading