Falling

Timea thought the umbrellas in the park looked like bright red mushrooms. They were the same color as what she imagined her broken heart to be.

“So, he just up and left?” Sabrina asked.

“He said he wasn’t in love with me anymore.” Timea blinked up at the burgundy shade above her, drawing the impending tears back down into her eye sockets.

“But what about London? For God’s sake, she’s only three months!”

“I can’t take care of her by myself.”

Timea looked down towards the children who sat on the rocks at the edge of the pond, splashing their feet in the water. Bree, Sabrina’s eldest daughter, held London on her knee with one hand and sprinkled water into her face with the other. The baby laughed, bubbling spit, and swayed to avoid the shower of water droplets.

Timea saw her beginning to slip, her body leaning closer to the water…

If London were to fall, how quickly would her tiny lungs fill with water before they could pull her out?

word count: 172

—Nortina


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.

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

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Evil Quack

“Ducks are eeeeevil! Don’t feed them! Don’t feed the ducks!”

“Oh, no. Not him again,” Monica moaned as the homeless man in the mud-smeared trench coat and dingy fisherman’s hate ran towards them, waving his arms frantically. “For once, can we have a peaceful day at the park without being harassed by the needy?”

“Lighten up Mo’,” her husband said. “Toss him some bread.”

“So he can wash it down with malt liquor?” She crumbled a slice in her fists and handed a piece of the crust to her three-year-old son.

“Here, ducky,” Robbie said, shuffling his feet towards the flock. “Quack! Quack!”

One duck charged for the boy, flapping its wings. It snatched the crust from Robbie’s hand, biting his thumb in the process.

“Oooouch!” Robbie wailed.

“Eh, eh, eh.” The duck turned away slowly, the bread crust still in it’s beak.

“Eeeeevil!” the homeless man shouted as Monica sat on the bench cradling her injured son and her husband stood, scratching his head, wondering, what the hell kind of quack is that?

word count: 174

—Nortina


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.

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

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A Seasonal Jog in Carolina

Just last week, this trail was buried under seven inches of snow. As if August wasn’t two months ago, and Fall was only a distant memory. That’s one thing you’ve got to love about living in the Piedmont area of North Carolina. You can experience all four seasons in one week. Tomorrow, it’s forecast to get up to 80 degrees. Our poor trees will be so confused. They’ll think they’ve shed their leaves too soon.

I jog in place to read the sign post. The Nathanael Greene memorial is just ahead. Usually that signifies I’ve run a mile, but since Guilford Courthouse National Military Park was closed all last week—we tend to shut down everything even at the sight of a flurry—I decide to run another lap. That dusting they’re calling for next Tuesday may turn into a blizzard. Of course, anything here is considered a blizzard.

We Carolina folks just ain’t used to all this snow.

word count: 159

—Nortina


Looking at this week’s photo, I wanted to focus more so on setting than developing an actual story. I hope that’s alright.

This is part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, where you write a story in 100-150 (give or take 25) using the provided photo prompt. Click the froggy icon to read other stories and add your own.  

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