Tag: #FFfAW

Posted in Flash Fiction

Frosted

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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Ruby didn’t understand why things kept disappearing. Her hairbrush. The book she was reading. She hadn’t found either of them. It was only she and Ralph in the house. He wouldn’t take those things. What need would Ralph, her husband have for them? He was as puzzled as she was.

Today, her Christmas cactus was missing. Ruby felt like she was losing her mind. Could it be dementia? She even looked around outdoors and there it was. Covered with frost. She snatched it up, taking it inside. She knew something was very wrong.

As she went inside, she heard Ralph on the phone and stopped when she heard the words “nursing home.” She realized he was talking to his brother about her. They were planning on putting her in a nursing home and Ralph had been setting her up.

She would show him.

Posted in Challenges, Uncategorized

Burned

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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Russ and Mary stood looking at the smoldering ruin of their home. The fire had started last night in the chimney. There wasn’t much left. It had just been a small frame house. They were in shock and didn’t quite know what to do.

They heard a vehicle on the road and turned around. It was the wood man pulling a cart full of wood. He stopped in front of the burned house and walked up to them.

Russ asked him where he got his wood and he told him. He asked him if he could get better wood to help him rebuild his house. The wood man said that he could.

The wood man asked, “Do you need help rebuilding?” The man whose house burned answered that he did.

The wood man haltingly said that he used to be in construction but there had been no jobs recently and he would be glad to help.

Russ and Mary looked at him and each other. Everything would be fine.

 

Posted in Challenges

The River Chamo

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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They had spent three days camping by a lazy section of the Rio Chamo in New Mexico below Taos. Leslie and Bill had brought their raft with them. After much reading, they decided that this section of river was suitable for novices. After getting the raft ready and in the river, along with their gear, they climbed aboard.

It was smooth going at first. They knew how to paddle. As the river took a turn, the water got rougher. Bill yelled his concern to Leslie but she wanted to keep going.

They saw the rocky dropoff ahead, but it was too late. The raft flew up in the air and so did Leslie and Bill. They both landed on the bank, unharmed. As they sat up, trembling with shock, Bill quietly told Leslie to turn around slowly.

There sat a large black bear staring at them.

Posted in Flash Fiction

Bank Heist

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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We hid under the branches of the old, twisted tree. Crouching so they couldn’t see us. We didn’t think they were chasing us with dogs because we couldn’t hear them bay. If they were, we were already lost. David and I, we had just robbed First Farmer’s Bank at the point of a gun. Armed bank robbery.

We got the money too. We hadn’t had time to count it. We’d been off escaping on foot. By the looks of the bills, we had quite a haul. Everyone had said that if you rob a bank, something would explode and get red stuff all over you. Nothing had exploded. We could just hear those sheriff’s men crashing through the forest after us. We crept along the high ridge.

“Cut,” the Director cried!

“And print. Great job, everyone! We’re done for the day.”

 

#Photo credit to yarnspinner

Posted in Flash Fiction

The Big House

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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I still walk by the big house behind the fence every day. It’s empty now. My mother lived in that house with her parents and her brother. After I was born, I lived with her, but then I went to live with my dad and only visited the big house.

It’s been ten years since she called and asked me to come over. She said she was frightened. I rushed to the house but I couldn’t find her. She was behind the house. With a bullet in her head. Her brother was standing over her with a gun. Laughing.

Posted in Flash Fiction

Friends

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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John decided to warm up while Carl and Scotty bought their train tickets. The train ran much later tonight, but they had to get their seats. They wanted to entertain the crowd and maybe make a little money while they waited. They had hours to play some of their music – classic British rock.

Carl’s fiancee was waiting on him at his Mum’s home in Scotland. The wedding was this weekend. John and Scotty were standing up with him. Carl was so excited he could hardly hold his guitar. A big party was planned after the wedding and John and Scotty were going to be the band.

Carl and Scotty came running out of the terminal.

“John,” they cried, “There are no tickets left for the train to Scotland. We’re on the waiting list.”

“Start playing,” John said. “We’ll make enough money to hire a car if we have to. Nothing will stop your wedding, Carl!”

 

Photo credit to Sunayana MoiPensieve

Posted in Flash Fiction

The Moonshiners

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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“Barney, be quiet, for God’s sake. Don’t alert the whole county that we’re out here,” Lester whispered.

“I’m trying, Lester, but the leaves and limbs on this forest floor make noise when you walk on them.”

“The moonshine still is right over here, Barney. Behind the old car. Just stand right there.”

Lester grabs the something that turns out to be a camouflage tarp and pulls it loose. A moonshine still was under it. Barney got the supplies for the mash to make the ‘shine out of the truck and they went to work. A combination of water, cracked corn, sugar, and yeast. Lester told Barney to go on home.

Lester was serving as the guard of the still that night. Before Barney left, he got Lester’s guns out of the truck. A pistol and an automatic rifle, an AR-15. That should take care of snoops and lawmen.

Posted in Flash Fiction

The Piano Girl

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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Gracie loved her piano. She started taking piano lessons at four. She could play the classical musicians at seven. At ten, she was an accomplished pianist. She played when she was happy or hurt. She played four hours a day.

Gracie had a wonderful piano teacher when she got to college – Mrs. V. Mrs. V said she could help her get a partial scholarship to a big music school in the east. Only partial. Gracie’s family had no money for the rest. Gracie understood. She kept playing.

Until one day she didn’t. There was no time. She had to go to work and she studied for better jobs when she returned home. She closed her beloved piano for many years.

Years later, when Gracie didn’t have to work anymore, she started playing again. It took some time, but she remembered it all. It still brought her joy. Wasn’t that the point, after all?

 

Posted in Flash Fiction

The Windfall

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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“It’s impossible to get a good price for cattle nowdays, Desiree,” Clint said as he passed through the kitchen.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she replied.

“I’ve taken all the cattle to Ed Davenport to be evaluated and priced except that one calf that’s too young. The price of cattle is pretty low. I’m just afraid we won’t get the price we need to change our business model.”

Clint and Desiree had inherited Clint’s father’s ranch and were looking to start a large organic farming operation in place of raising cattle. They had environmental concerns. One was the bee population in their area of the U.S.

The phone rang. It was Ed. The price he gave Clint for the cattle would more than give them the startup capital for their dream. They danced around the kitchen, celebrating.

FFfAW

Posted in Flash Fiction

Fear of Flying

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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Violet had never been afraid of flying. She was flying to her new home in South Florida late this afternoon. She was terrified. She had scheduled an appointment with her sleep doctor for something to take the edge off so she could even board the damn plane. He would also have the results of her sleep tests.

She was shell-shocked when she walked out of his office. He had given her a prescription for her fear of flying along with her diagnosis. PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He wanted to know what had happened since he saw her last.

She knew now what was wrong. The last time she had been at an airport. The airport in St. Louis. A traumatic experience. The man she loved had flown away – forever.

Violet put the prescription in the trash. That was not going to destroy her life.