5 Flash Fiction stories you can read in your tea break

a couple of years ago

These five flash fiction stories were written on the train to work so excuse the shaky handwriting.

Some of them are inspired by the mundane, stuff that never gets any air play, see if you can guess what I’m writing about.

Others are about love and life, being a couple and all that. Some mix the mundane with a subtext of love, yeah it’s deep, but fun.

Made for each other

Me and her go together. We were made for each other. We are the perfect match.

She is soft, well, soft compared to me. I’m a bit hard, with a cutting edge. I need that though. I have to bite into her a bit, or we’d end up falling out. She loves it really, it’s what she’s built for.

As a couple we go deep. It’s our togetherness that gives us power. We’d be useless on our own. Okay, I might be able to hold things together, but she’d be no good by herself. She’d be invisible, like a black hole. No-one would know she was there. But in a way that’s her strong point, her hidden strength if you like. They are all like that aren’t they? Even when things are a bit flaky or hollow. It’s what they do: give you support. I know she keeps me anchored when I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.

People don’t give us credit for what we are as a couple. We get taken for granted a lot. But we don’t mind. As long as we are together we can last for years and years. But then that day will come, when that old shelf is taken down because I’m too rusty to be trusty. And as for her? She’ll still be there. Plastered over, but still there for me.

I'm too rusty to be trusty. Click To Tweet

Cursed

Arthur trudged through the rush hour crowd, hat pulled down and collar up against the chill of winter dawn. Head down, Arthur never saw the skater.

The collision knocked his brief case out of his hand and it crashed to the floor spilling papers everywhere. The skater never stopped.

“Damn you,” cried Arthur. No one helped but an old man watched.

“Damn you all to hell,” he bent to rescue papers from the trampling feet, then noticed the silence.

The thunder of the crowd had stopped.

He looked around and where there had been a multitude was now only shoes and a lonely skate.

A hot wind blew a paper towards him. Thinking it was his, he picked it up and read, “be careful what you wish for.”

Crackpot

“Can I help you?”

“Just my numbers love. They let me down again on Saturday you know.”

“Not again.”

“I had twenty-seven and twenty-six came out, and forty-six and forty-seven came out. Would you believe it?”

“That’s hard luck.”

“And our Kyle’s birthday is the third, I always do three but for some reason I did fifteen that day, which was the number of customers in the shop, and didn’t three come out! I could have kicked myself.”

“You know you should stick to the same numbers.”

“I know love, you’re right, but when I see something, I feel like it’s a message. You know; two pigeons fighting over a crust, thirty-one people killed in a plane crash, twelve days until Christmas. Omens: that’s what they are!

He used to say I was mad. ‘Just you wait’, I used to say, ‘you won’t be calling me a crackpot when I’ve won the jackpot’.

He used to say he’d sooner spend it on a pint, ‘beer today not jam tomorrow’: he had lots of funny sayings like that.”

“Forty-three million rollover this week.”

“I’ve picked forty-three. That’s how many years we were married… He’s been gone ten years this week: I’ve picked ten as well.”

“You could do a lot with forty-three million.”

“Yes love, but it wouldn’t bring him back.”

“Will there be anything else?”

“Yeah… give me a Lucky Dip.”

Forbidden Fruit

“Lucy, let’s sit for a minute I feel a bit shaky.”

“Okay Trace, nice view here over the reservoir. You okay?”

“I sometimes get this when I’m exercising. There’s some dried fruit in my bag.”

Hels rummaged in her rucksack, “bugger: lid’s come off the Tupperware box.” She scooped fruit from the bottom of the bag and offered some to Lucy.

“Lovely, cranberry and blueberry, very healthy,” said Lucy passing the box back. Tracy threw a handful of berries in her mouth, then gagged on a hair.

“That’s not from a fruit bush,” said Tracy holding up a long curly pube.

“Ginger bush more like. Looks like a man’s.” observed Lucy.

“This is Tony’s bag. He used it for his team building trip last weekend.”

“That will be it then.”

“Yes, but Tony has brown hair, not ginger.”

“Is there a redhead in the team?”

“His boss!”

 

Good Boys

“You don’t take sugar do you Ange?”

“No Debs. I’d like to say I was sweet enough, but that would be a lie. Where’s your Freddie?”

“He’s in the other room. Playing ‘hide-the bone’ with Charlie. I do hope they’re not making a mess.”

“I don’t know how you put up with it.”

“It’s just the way they are, they can’t help it. Nature made them that way.”

“I’m a bit old fashioned I’m afraid. A good long walk in the fresh air would stop them doing it.”

“Perhaps, but they are good boys really, and they are not harming anyone.”

“You might be Mother Theresa but I think that Charlie is a bit rough, I don’t know why you have him round.”

“I know Charlie is a bit of a bully sometimes but he’s got a heart of gold.”

“Is that whimpering I can hear now?”

“Charlie’s probably pulling Freddie’s rope.”

“You could get shut of Charlie if you fixed Freddie up with her next door.”

“I’m not having that bitch round here again. Last time she walked mud all over my white carpet and threw up on the sofa. I’ll never get the smell out of it. Besides, he’s not interested, it’s the boys he goes for. Watch your tea here they come now.

Hello, have you been playing nicely, good boys, sit Freddie, good dog, and you Charlie. Would you like a treat?”

“Is that whimpering I can hear now?” “Charlie's probably pulling Freddie's rope.” Click To Tweet

Well done you made it to the end…

Thanks for reading, I hope your tea didn’t go cold.

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Cheers

Johnny

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