Posts Tagged ‘short story’

j-hardy-rubble

Ash piled high over racked concrete, splintering rafters, rotting furniture. As far as Jared Thomas looked, there was nothing but grey.

“Look upon what you have wrought,” the woman said, her face hidden behind shining steel. “This is your legacy.”

Jared bent down to see a photograph of a girl and her mother, trodden underfoot and coated in dust. He wondered if there was anyone left.

“I never wanted this,” he said.

“You did not care before you beheld it with your own eyes.”

“I can change,” Jared said. “Please. Take me back. I can change!”

The woman said nothing.


Word Count: 100

This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and J. Hardy Carrol for providing the prompt photo!

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Ian Thorn was happy with his reputation as the finest mind in England, his impressive number of completed cases, and the money that piled up in his bank account. What he could live without were the bodies.

It was all right at first. His clients came in and he solved their murders. But then he found a man stabbed to death on the Underground during his morning commute. A visit to his brother’s house in the country revealed a secret Satanic cult.

Solving mysteries was all very good, but he preferred not to have his work follow him home.

“Take a vacation,” his friend, Inspector Banks, said. “Try the beach.”

So Thorn went to the beach. He walked the golden sands, watching sunlight play over clear waters, a salty breeze in his face.

And then he found it, floating in the shallows.

He sighed. There was another case to solve.


Word Count: 150

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Louise for providing the prompt photo!

200-05-may-21st-2017

Nine days.

That was how long she sat on the throne she’d been forced into, how long she had held all the power and none of it. Each night she had woken in a sweat, knowing that it could all only end one way.

There had been one moment, sitting beside her husband, when it all felt real. For an instant, Jane Grey had imagined her England, an England ruled with kindness and justice. She imagined children, grandchildren, a future.

And then they came, Mary and her supporters, and Jane was thrown in the Tower, staring at grey stone. Each day she felt the shadow of the axe over her. Each day she waited for it to fall.

Wyatt’s Rebellion was the death sentence. Mary knew she could be lenient no longer. She could permit no other queen to live, not even a Nine Day Queen.

They brought Jane out into the green and she felt sunlight on her face even as she saw it glinting on the axe. She bowed her head and remembered that moment when she thought she’d have it all: family, throne, future.

She was seventeen years old.

The axe fell.


Word Count: 195

This is for Sunday Photo Fiction! Thanks to A Mixed Bag for the photo prompt!

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They whisper of her, as they have whispered for six years of watchful peace. To some, she is a legend. To others, she is as real as the scars on their faces, the ruin of their lands, the screams that echo still as they try to sleep at night.

But now, though it is spring and the sun should be bright in the midday sky, dark clouds are drifting in. The wind grows chill and icicles form upon the leaves of trees. Children laugh as the snow settles on the ground, sprouting flowers covered in a blanket of crystalline white. They do not remember.

Horns sound from the mountains and the swift horses tear through the fresh-fallen snow. Above a great multitude in mail and fur flies the flag of the White Lion, billowing in the wind she has made.

They whisper no more.

The Winter Queen has returned.


Word Count: 149

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Ioniangraphics for providing the prompt photo!

tltweek67

“Just sing,” they tell him. “You’re only an entertainer and it’s not your job to talk about these things.”

But he has seen what comes of silence.


This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Paulette Wooten for providing the prompt photo!

auto-aftermath

Screeching horns. Crashing metal on metal. Squealing tires. Glass splintering in spider-webs of shards.

And over it all, the thunder of gunfire and the smell of gunpowder.

After, they sit on the curb, staring at the wreck of the car: windows blown out, tires flat, mirrors snapped off like old branches.

“Could have been worse,” Aaron says, taking a long draw from his cigarette.

“Car’s a wreck,” Dave says, cradling his bloodstained arm. “I’ve got a bullet in me. How could it be worse?”

“Could be dead.” Aaron stands. “Come on. Job’s not done yet.”


Word Count: 95

This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and providing the photo prompt! 

photo-20170508154649843

Music filled the gardens as figures in ballroom dresses and tuxedoes danced under the starlight. Aiko wasn’t one of them. She sat by herself, looking out over the city spread out below.

The grounds stretched over the hillside, full of enclaves, fountains, and winding paths. It was supposed to be natural, but Aiko knew better. Each blade of grass was trimmed perfectly to size; each plant had been specifically selected for its colour, its rarity, its scent, crammed into an unnatural ecosystem. There were no ugly plants, no weeds, no animals.

Aiko’s parents called this place their Eden, their retreat from civilization, but nothing about it was real. As she looked around at the designer chairs and designer gowns, the artificial grass and artificial conversations, she found herself wishing to be down in the streets of the city.

They were dirty, but at least they were real.


Word Count: 147

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Yarnspinner for providing the prompt photo!