Tag: #microfiction

Posted in Flash Fiction

The Last Quarter

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

She had always been an introvert preferring her books, her writings and her piano to people. Her circumstances magnified her introversion. A country life, little exposure to people. She would want to be with school friends, but that seldom happened. She adored her family, depended on them, felt safe and protected.

Even after life changed and she had to at least pretend to be an extrovert for her work, secretly, she could never bring herself to trust other people. When she had trusted, she’d been hurt.

She’d always heard others say that you really only had a handful of true friends in your entire life. As she entered the last quarter of her life, she had learned that to be true from her own painful experiences. By then, her heart had hardened and any affinity for people she’d had sliced away leaving a scar.

For d’Verse Poets Prose Prompt

Posted in #FridayFictioneers, Flash Fiction

Freedom

Posted on by R.M. Carlson
PHOTO PROMPT @ Dale Rogerson

“Mama, I want to go out and ride my bike.”

”No, child, it isn’t safe. The government forces may do a surprise check. We aren’t supposed to be on the streets.”

”But why, Mama?”

”Darling child, we live under something called martial law. They have imposed a round-the-clock order that we must stay indoors.”

”Here’s Papa. Can I go outdoors, Papa?”

“No, child. For now, we just have to remember how it was when we could elect the government officials we wanted and when we lived in a free society and work to get back there.”

For Friday Fictioneers. Thanks, Rochelle!

Posted in #FridayFictioneers, Flash Fiction

The Spinning Woman

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

Spinning wheel in Appalachia
PHOTO PROMPT @ ROCHELLE WISOFF-FIELDS

Mary sat at the old spinning wheel that was passed down to her from her grandmother. Spinning wheels were formerly used to make thread that was then used to make clothes. Mary lived deep in the hills of Appalachia and she was preparing to start making the family’s clothes again.

The children couldn’t find jobs. The new autocratic government cut off unemployment benefits and all financial assistance. Her grandmother had taught her the basics of life, just for fun then. Now, she was glad she knew as her fingers flew on the spinning wheel, making magic.

For Friday Fictioneers. Thanks, Rochelle!

Posted in Fiction

The Book of Spells of Misfortune

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In a city in the North, she was the housekeeper for the handsome detective. She didn’t like him much. She was snowbound at his house overnight. He was gone on an assignment. She was bored that night and looked for something to read. She found a book with crumpled pages called The Book of Spells of Misfortune. Curious, she opened it.

She found a spell she would like to cast on him but she didn’t believe in that stuff. She started chanting it for fun. She heard something and there he stood. He had turned into a pillar of ice.

100 words

Photo Credit Dale Rogerson

 

 

Posted in Fiction

Lifetime Learning

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In 1936, Mrs. Owen, the teacher in the Bratton Branch one-room schoolhouse, asked her students to write the three things in their notebooks they felt they had learned during their time there that would serve them best in life.

Fern wrote, “I learned to have humility, gratitude, and patience. I think these three virtues will serve me best in life.”

She graduated with perfect grades later that week.

3LineTales

 

Posted in Flash Fiction

Above the Weeds

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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She took a walk that hot, sweltering day, taking her puppy who was learning to walk on a leash. She lived in the country and the road in front of her house was deserted. A day could pass, hours would go by with no traffic coming or going. She thinks that her sneaker caught on broken asphalt and down she went. She was walking too fast. For some reason, she couldn’t get up. Hours passed. Her puppy laid down beside her. She raised her hand in desperation, hoping someone would see it above the weeds.

3LineTales

Posted in 3LineTales

Her Eyes

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

tltweek85

He liked to sit in his yard at night and light sparklers. They reminded him of her shining, bright eyes when she looked at a flower, the blue sky, a puppy, or him. He was sad when they went out. He feared that, someday, her eyes would cease to sparkle for him.

3LineTales