A Great Distance

“They say butterflies can migrant thousands of miles.” She crouches over the cactus, holds her finger out, nudges for the monarch to climb aboard. “They’ll fly to the ends of the earth and never get tired.” She lightly brushes the edge of its frayed, discolored wing with her knuckle.

“That one looks like it’s traveled quite a distance.” He chisels away at the sand and sediment.

“A delicate fossil,” she draws the butterfly to her puckered lips, “guiding us to the biggest archeological discover on American soil.”

“Maybe he knows buddy inside.” He blows away dust, carefully strokes his brush inside the grooves on the roof of the sarcophagus. “What do you think these markings mean?”

“Maybe our friend here can translate.”

He chuckles a pigeon’s coo, steps back to admire his work. The ancient gravesite three quarters excavated. “It’s possible he not only traveled thousands of miles, but thousands of—”

“Years,” she whispered. She blew it a kiss, extended her arm. The butterfly lowered its wings atop the archaic coffin.

word count: 171


Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
is a weekly challenge where you write a story in 100-150 words (give or take 25 words) using the provided photo prompt as inspiration.


Lovers’ Dig

The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event.

“So, what does it say?” Nida asked.

“Death will come on swift wings to whomsoever opens this chest,” Trent said in a deep, ominous voice.

Nida placed her hands on her hips, cocked her head to the side. “Really. Did you forget that I’ve seen The Mummy a billion times? ‘There is one, the undead, who if brought back to life, is bound by sacred law to consummate this curse.’ Give me a break!”

“But that’s what it says!”

“We’re in a cavern 1000 feet underground in West Virginia. There’s no mummies here.”

“Who said it’s a mummy? The Native Americans are known to have frightening ghost stories. Remember the Wendigo?”

“If you didn’t want to go on an excavation for your honeymoon, you shouldn’t have married an archeologist. Now open the damn chest!”

“Till death do us part, right?” He pried the lid open with his chisel.

word count: 148


Mondays Finish the Story: a flash fiction challenge where we provide you with a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. Your challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided.

Click the froggy icon to read other stories and add your own.