#flashfiction

Psycho

/ Rosemary Carlson / 15 Comments

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She had escaped him. She found a room in this hotel over 100 miles away. Why was her judgement always so poor? Why did she always end up with the wrong man? She was still shaking as she put a few things away and went to shower. Those were questions she had tried to answer for years.

After showering, she realized she hadn’t eaten much in two days. He had yelled. Then pouted. Then yelled again until she was able to sneak out. She dressed and went down to the restaurant.

She was eating. Suddenly, a voice behind her said, “Surprise!”

 

Photo credit to Dale Rogerson

#FridayFictioneers

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The Goblin

/ Rosemary Carlson / 11 Comments

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Swedish Lapland had never been a duchy and had never had their own royal family until Prince David came to the castle there and brought beautiful Princess Signe. There was a celebration when they arrived in Lapland with the citizens coming from far and wide to welcome their  monarchs. They finally felt a part of Sweden.

Princess Signe had been trained in music and could play many musical instruments. She particularly enjoyed playing the harp. Often in the summer evenings, Prince David would invite the citizenry to the courtyard to hear the Princess play the harp.

One such evening, Princess Signe was playing and a goblin jumped out of the corner of the castle and atop her harp. She screamed and stood up as the goblin threatened her with a terrible illness. She had been taught how to deal with the creatures of Sweden and pulled out her silver necklace with the silver cross. The goblin screamed and fled.

The beautiful music in the castle continued.

#FFfAW

Continuity

/ Rosemary Carlson / 7 Comments

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“It was Momma’s summer house,” Miranda said to the real estate agent, “Don’t you think a buyer would love it out here?” Miranda continued.

“No,” the realtor responded, “I know it’s your family home, but the demographic who might buy it work all the time and wouldn’t be interested.”

Dejected, Miranda walked in the house with the realtor. His phone rang. He turned to Miranda and asked if he could show the house in just a few minutes.

 

A young woman and her husband bought it on the spot. She was a gardner and loved the summer house.

Imaginary

/ Rosemary Carlson / 1 Comment

If you are a writer of fiction, you have to have a good imagination. You have to be able to create imaginary characters, stories, settings. Fiction is a work of good imagination.

Children have the most wonderful imaginations. They let their imaginations run wild and free and create whole worlds in which to play. As adults, we have become accustomed to reining in our imaginations. We have to be an adult, act like an adult, and use our imaginations only in controlled circumstances, like writing fiction. We can’t live in fantasy worlds lest we hurt other people.

When a writer embarks on a work of fiction, it is a difficult transition to make. They are suddenly allowed to let their imagination, at least as it relates to the story they are writing, run wild and free like a child’s imagination. It has to be a bit more controlled in order to tell their story.

The Children of Birch Branch

/ Rosemary Carlson / 16 Comments

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“Come look,” Maxine called to her cousins. “Look what I’ve found.”

Maxine and five of her cousins were at their homeplace on Birch Branch. They had been given a day by the attorney to come get whatever belonged to their family. Maxine was cleaning out the shed and found these ancient toys.

Kevin said, “I feel like we’re looking at our parents’ lives. I guess in some ways we are looking at their childhood here.”

The cousins finished up with a last look at the house and the property on Birch Branch. They knew they would never be back again.

The Streetcar and the Thief

/ Rosemary Carlson / Leave a comment

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Every day, when Madison was on the streetcar going to work, she saw the same man. He was always standing on the corner of High Street and 9th Avenue. He was tall and blonde. Their eyes would meet when the streetcar paused there.

Madison was intrigued by his eyes. They looked to be a very light blue. He had on a suit and carried a briefcase. She assumed he was going to work too.

One day, when Madison’s streetcar got to the corner, the man ran over and jumped on. As the streetcar lurched ahead, he grabbed on to the same pole as Madison.

Madison said, “Going to work?” She smiled.

“Yes,” he said. “I had to finally meet you first.”

They chatted and laughed until the next stop, when Madison had to get off. They promised to meet again on the streetcar.

As Madison walked to her office, she realized her handbag was missing.

The Fiery Panther

/ Rosemary Carlson / 4 Comments

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“We have to establish a fire break to keep this fire from jumping the highway,” Roger said to Jeff, who was fighting the fire along with him.

There were 30 firefighters trying to hold back just this section of the fire near U.S. 41 in South Florida, but they were having little luck. It was hot and dry, with winds at 30 mph.

The Chief radioed in and told the men two firefighters were trapped in their section. They were asked to try to get to them. Roger and Jeff looked at each other, then at the roaring flames in front of them. They knew there was no way to get to the men. To try would be suicide. They would have to hope their fire blankets would save them.

As some of the men kept piling up dirt near the highway and others were using the hose, two men came running out of the flames, covered by their fire blankets. Everyone cheered! In the arms of one of the men, under the blanket, was a small, black creature. A tiny Florida panther! Separated from its mother and saved by the firefighters even while they were saving their own lives.

Border Crossing

/ Rosemary Carlson / 8 Comments

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“Jerry, how much traffic backup is there now? Can you see the statistics?” Rhonda asked..

“You don’t want to know. Hundreds of vehicles. Mostly oil trucks. Some are stuck to the road. The snow is starting to falling.”

Jerry and Rhonda were agents working at the Portal, North Dakota border crossing site. Portal is one of only three 24 hour, seven-day per week border crossings from the U.S. into Canada. It was December. Trade between the U.S. and Canada didn’t wait on the weather.

There was suddenly a break in the action. A big oil rig was stuck in the ice on the road. Some of the workers were trying to help. Jerry jumped up and went to the back room of the checkpoint. Rhonda watched the truck for a moment and then followed him.

Jerry grabbed her and said, “At least it gives me a moment alone with you.”

The Estate

/ Rosemary Carlson / 6 Comments

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She sat down at the end of the counter in her favorite diner. She knew she had to eat while someone else was with her very sick mother. Ruby, the waitress, came and took her order.

Her cousin, Mac, suddenly walked into the diner and sat down beside her.

“Ally, we have to talk about her estate,” he said. “She wanted the cousins to share in the estate.”

“What do you want me to do, Mac? There is no will.”

“Make a fair distribution, Ally.”

“If she wanted you to have anything, she would have made a will,” Ally said.