Flash Fiction – Shells

This flash piece was written for the 27June 2014 Flash! Friday competition and received third runner up.  The photo and “patience” was the prompt.

Shells

The first mushroom cloud held a sick beauty. We watched as billowing death darkened TV screens. On the beach white foam sparkled between shells. I wanted to hold your hand, but tousled your hair to make you laugh.

Nuclear Winter Recon. CC photo by Paul Hocksenar    

More mushroom clouds. More cities turned into mass graves. More people huddled together to survive. More lashed out violently. I wanted to hold your hand, but made a silly joke.

Darkness consumed the world as we fled to shelters. Death spread in ash and clouds and black masks. I couldn’t see your eyes behind the fogged lenses. I promised you I wouldn’t leave.

One by one millions of voices fell silent to be remembered only somewhere in the midst of the dead or the fearful memories of the living.

Only broken shells remained. Shells of cities, shells of people, shells of souls, shells of prayers for forgiveness whimpered into the dark sky.

I’d waited long enough.

I slipped my hand into yours.

***

Here's a look behind the story - and the song that kickstarted it. 

Flash Fiction: To Kill a Fly

This flash piece was written for the 20June 2014 Flash! Friday competition and received first runner up.  The cartoon and “arrogance” was the prompt.

To Kill a Fly

“A woman on the throne, women explorers, what will be next? Women voting?”

John stared down his nose at the newspaper. Next to him an issue of Punch showed a cartoon of Queen Victoria.

Mary stared at her cooling tea. She could feel old tears burning her eyes. New bruises throbbed.

“I want to fly in an airship one day.”

John snorted behind the newspaper and slurped his tea.

Mary thought of the flypapers still soaking in the kitchen.

“Did you see the girls again this morning?”

“I did.”

“I do not know what you women have to gossip about. And then act like you are learning practical things. The house is still run exactly the same. Preposterous. A waste of money.”

“I enjoy it.”

“You are being foolish. Tell me one thing you learnt today.”

He rustled the paper again.

“Did you know flypaper is full of arsenic? It does not have a taste or smell.” Mary smiled.

“New crowns for old ones!” –Benjamin Disraeli presents Queen Victoria the crown of India. Punch, 1876, by cartoonist John Tenniel.

Fiction Update – Murder! Mayhem! Strange Browser Histories!

I’ve updated A Slip of My Pen with all the Flash! Friday pieces I’ve written thus far. Some of the research for these definitely made my browser history look really… odd. Especially the research for “To Kill a Fly”.

TheFlash Pieces Include:

The Worth of Death

Old World, new World

Shells

To Kill a Fly

Rose and the Wind

White Flag

A Cup of Tears

Graffiti

In other, mostly unrelated news

I’m very close to actually handing in the final version of the eternal dissertation all bound in mock leather and hopefully looking very interesting and important. I think once I actually hand over the pile of copies (getting my daily exercise while doing so – it’s going to be very heavy) I may need to sit down with a cup of tea and a biscuit and just let it all sink in. Or with red velvet cake. Red velvet cake sounds good.

#180699094 / gettyimages.com