“It’s that time of year again!”
“What, to be lonley and broke?”
“I’ll be thankful when the city comes to blow these.” She kicks the leaves covering the sidewalk. “Hard to jog when you’re worried about faceplanting.”
“I wonder what a blower feels like…”
“God.” If it means peace from her constant complaints of sexual frustration, I welcome the faceplant.
Submitted for #1MinFiction. Thank you so much to Cyranny’s Cove for continuing this challenge during my very long and unplanned hiatus. It was a pleasant surprise to see it still going strong. 🙂
If you’d like to participate, you can find this week’s prompt on Cyranny’s page here.
I haven’t eaten in two days. Made a home for myself in this alley— newspaper for blankets, my shoulder bag as a pillow against the stoop to our apartment.
When he sees me like this, he’ll let me back in, I lie to keep myself warm at night.
The light at the end of my “tunnel,” the sounds of traffic, the voices of strangers frighten me.
But I must prove to myself that I can live…
This short, albeit rusty, piece of flash (I’ve been away too long) is brought to you by Monday’s One-Minute Fiction, a challenge that asks you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided.
I struggled to squeeze everything I wanted to say into a minute, but maybe you had better luck with today’s B&W photo prompt…
I was relieved to have a boy. That he was lighter than his father. That the Missus wouldn’t abuse him like all the others I bore.
He was raised with his white half, grew up to give me commands.
When his sister was born, I tried to keep them apart. She was black like me, slept in the attic…
At night, years later, I hear the stairs creak under his heavy boot. My stomach twists in knots when she reemerges with the sun, her dress torn.
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. Monday’s BlaPoWriMo / Black History Month-inspired prompt was the above photo of a mammy and her charge or, perhaps, a mother and her child. In that time, the lines were often blurred.
Jack places a paw on her hand. Her heart pounds through her chest, pulse reverberating up her neck. The sweat on her fingers smear the phone screen as she types the message.
She glances at Jack, whose puppy-dog eyes encourage her.
He called for a reason, not just to say hi.
She’ll ask him out for coffee. Just coffee. So they can talk. Only talk. And she won’t take no for an answer.
Killing two birds with one stone, and it only took me a minute. Here’s my response to the last two #1MinFiction prompts: This cute photo, and the phrase, “won’t take no for an answer…”
“Please, sit down.”
Another spell of vertigo sends me into a whirlwind, and the ground underneath suddenly feels 20 feet away.
I fall into the chair behind me. “I don’t want to remember.”
I still see his face, still feel his clammy hands around my throat. The darkness closes in, as when I went unconscious and woke wearing no pants.
“When will you catch him, officer?”
Spending time catching up on some prompts that I missed while on a brief hiatus. Here’s my contribution to a previous #1MinFiction prompt: whirlwind
I’ve ignored his calls for two weeks. But he’s persistent.
“I don’t want to lead him on.”
“But he’s such a nice guy.”
I don’t know what it is, but he reminds me of my ex, who was emotionally abusive, manipulative, who stalked me during and after the relationship, called me again and again, said I’d be stupid to end things with him, because he’s such a nice guy…
I turn off my phone.
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. Last Monday’s prompt was a bit repetitive… again and again
I blast off at the touch of his lips against mine, and wake up just as quickly, forgetting that none of it is real.
With a sigh, I reach for the pill bottle on the edge of my nightstand. It feels light in my hand. Empty.
How will I justify a refill on a 90-day prescription after just two weeks? I must go back to sleep.
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. Monday’s prompt blasted you off into a new year, or in the case of this story, a sweet dream! 😉
They thought they heard Santa Claus, never left their rooms as I packed all the presents into bins for the shelter and put them in the trunk of my car.
Now my husband glares at me like I’m the Grinch that stole Christmas, but even the Grinch learned that the joy of this holiday doesn’t originate from a store.
“Come on kids, get your coats. We’re going caroling.” I will show them the true meaning.
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided, but it looks like Grinch-mom stole all the presents from Monday’s Christmas-themed photo prompt! Guess she wants us to know it’s not all about the gifts too. 😉
It’s been written before…
Stranger to town walks into a bar in the middle of a blizzard, shaking snow off her shoulders. She locks eyes with the man playing pool by himself.
“You look like you could use a drink.” He offers her an extra cue stick, nods over to the keep wiping glasses.
His breath smells of just what she’ll have. She leans into his neck. “Let it snow.”
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. Monday’s Christmas-themed prompt comes from a song we all know and love: Let it snow!
Lisa’s “Baby’s First Christmas” in my hand. Trinkets Josiah and I bought on our many travels by my feet. On the treetop, the angel, whose skin Tessa and I hand-painted brown, its only decoration.
The night before Christmas, and I stand before a naked tree, drying, surrounded by boxes of ornaments, and a lifetime of memories.
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. Last Monday’s Christmas-themed prompt was one word: ornament.