Category: Flash Fiction

Flash Fiction, Random Rants, tutto e niente

Just Following Orders

Tina Stewart Brakebill

Its big eyes just stared unblinking for a minute. “What do you call yourself?” the Fawn said at last.

Its tone surprised me. Such a soft sweet voice it had! Oozed like honey. Regret briefly crossed my mind. I pushed it back. “Doesn’t matter.” I replied. “I’m just following orders.”

illustration of gray wire
Photo by izhar khan on Pexels.com

This 50 word piece of Flash Fiction was inspired by the 50 word Thursday Challenge. Hosted this week by  Tales from the mind of Kristian

The Rules:

  • Find the muse within the photo or line provided and follow where it leads. It can be a story, anecdote, poem. Anything!
  • The Story must be between 50 and 250 words, in 50 word increments. (so 50, 100, 150, 200 or 250 words)
  • Link back to this post with the tag 50WordThurs so that everyone can find it, or post your response in the comments below.
  • HAVE FUN!

Here’s the picture

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And here are the words:

`What do you call yourself?’ the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet voice it had! – Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll

Flash Fiction, tutto e niente

The End: Metaphor or Simile?

Tina Stewart Brakebill

Metaphor? Simile? Musing as she stared. The future is a swirling suck hole. The future is like a swirling suck hole. Same diff. Either way we’re doomed.

Metaphorically tipping her hat to end-times, she cranked Bikini Kill.

Drowning out the lie. “Fear not we come in peace.”

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I clearly am reveling in the dark this week! Thanks to Kat’s Twittering Tales Challenge for inspiring this 279 character story.

Flash Fiction, tutto e niente

Bad Decisions

Tina Stewart Brakebill

God she was exhausted. The constant questions. The scrutiny. Knowing she was being judged. Constantly.  About every single thing.

Her friends had tried to warn her but she didn’t listen. “It’s not like I’m new at this this.” Her naïve arrogance dripping off her words. But California isn’t like New York they insisted.

Now she believed. Too late.

What it would feel like to escape it all? Just run. Dive in.  Sink. Just rest.

Free? Quiet?

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“Ms. Emma? … Ms. EMMA!”

The kids weren’t even the worst. It was the parents. Private school teacher in Malibu. Worst decision ever.

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Inspired by the beautiful photo prompt courtesy of Sandra Cook via Rochelle’s Friday Fictioners Challenge and by Carrot Ranch’s Flash Fiction Challenge. As a former teacher, the first thing I thought when I saw the word prompt “exhaustion” was teaching! Don’t get me wrong, I loved it BUT exhausted I often (always) was!

Flash Fiction, tutto e niente

Star Crossed Lovers & The Spiders from Mars

Tina Stewart Brakebill

Spiders from Mars. That’s the first thing that came into her head when she saw it. Thinking of Ziggy Stardust made her smile. She’d always loved Bowie. But that thing—whatever that thing was supposed to be—most certainly did not make her smile. The assignment had been simple enough. Create an original art piece for her foyer. Something simple and elegant that reflected her eclectic personality without being offensive or ugly. Something whimsical but with gravitas. Something deeply personal but not too revealing. She didn’t want to seem too transparent. That kind of thing led to requests. For favors. Or money. God she hoped he didn’t expect to get paid for this monstrosity. It was a shame. He was a beautiful boy. But still, she’d couldn’t have that thing staring at her. Her smile widened as she stepped towards him.

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Spiders from Mars. That had been the thing that came into his head when he first met her. Well really that one line. “Like some cat from Japan, he could lick ’em by smiling. He could leave ’em to hang.” He loved Bowie—as Ziggy and every other incarnation—but he’d never really felt that lyric. Then he met her. Slick. Shiny. Smiling. Always fuckin’ smiling. Telling him she loved him. Loved his work. But nothing behind the eyes. She’d definitely charm you then leave you to hang. He’d heard her requirements for the “art piece” but he didn’t really listen. He couldn’t get the spiders from mars out of his head. He should’ve told her no, but he really needed the cash. Plus, it really was perfect. Cold eyes. Crass. Mind screwed by her ego. Or maybe he had been wrong about her. She seemed to actually like it. After all, she was smiling.

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This weird piece of Flash Fiction was inspired by the image (above) from AdnaeInviere at DeviantArt.com courtesy of Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #9 and by Ziggy Stardust himself. I LOVE David Bowie. There will never be another one like him.

Ziggy Stardust & The Spiders from Mars

Flash Fiction, History, tutto e niente

Her Silent Secrets

Tina Stewart Brakebill

 

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It had been sixty years since she had stood on that pathway but her mind struggled to contain the same flood of emotions she had felt on that last night. Fear. Shame. Anger. Grief.

Such bottomless grief.

Emotions unleashed unwanted memories They shouldn’t have done it. They had no right. She didn’t belong to them. She couldn’t let them take her away. She had to do it. Even now, she blamed them.

She tried to stop the flood. But memories pushed through.

Hiding.

Desperate whispering: “Hush. Hush.”

Then silence as the light probed.  

If only they’d just let them be.

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This 100 word piece of fiction was written for this week’s Friday’s Fictioners (hosted as alway by the wonderful Rochelle), but it was inspired by my contribution for last week’s Friday Fictioners. You can read that 15 word story entitled “Her Silent Secret” here. I’ve been thinking about it since I wrote it and when I saw Roger’s photo, the totality of her tragic secret flooded into my head.

Photo credits go to Roger Bultot (for this week’s prompt) and Ronda Del Boccio (for last week’s).

For a closer look at the reality that could have led to this fictionalized tragedy, take a look at The Girls Who Went Away.  I am in no way affiliated with this book or its author but it’s a story worth reading if you’re unfamiliar with the all-to-common practice of forcing women to comply with mandated societal “norms.”