Daily Flash Fiction Stories
By Brian Anderson
He liked the way she moved.
There was a fluidity to her as she crossed the bedroom. He enjoyed the sway of her hips as she eased onto the stool at her dressing table. Her body shifted beneath the silk confines of her negligee. It was an undertow. A flux charged with energy. He felt as if the air between them was alive with the power of her beauty and his desire for her.Continue Reading This Story
By Ian Luke
Chocolate is good for you, right? In Evie’s eyes, if a little was good, a lot was fantastic. She not only ate a lot, she looked like she ate a lot. So much, she struggled to get around the house.
Personally, I thought fishing was good for you. The open air, smell of the sea, peace and quiet. Really, what could be better? And if a little was good, a lot was better.
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By Tegon Maus
It all began in the electrical isle at the Home Depot. I was buying the material to change out an electrical service. A key component to this task is a weather mast… a ten foot long, forty pound steel pipe.
This was the trigger to my situation.
As I pushed my cart down the aisle I couldn’t help but notice an attractive young woman watching me. Dressed in black slacks with a pale blue, floral top, covered with a bright orange Home Depot apron she appeared to be 23 or 24. She leaned against shelves and smiled softly in my direction.
I acknowledged her smile, nodding in return in an effort to be polite.Continue Reading This Story
By Hannah Shilling
“Ramón Novarro is a pouting business who has the sole talent of appearing in the movies, and now that I too am in the movies I am thrown into professional — I could call it — contact with Señor Novarro, every day, on your sets, which are a babble of workmen and other boors, so why, my question is to you, Mr Watling, why did you decide on this purgatory for me?”
Mr Watling shifts in his chair, wondering whether to make a start… but there’s more.
“And did you notice, Mr Watling, that at all times I have used the Americanism movie, so that all is now dreamy between us, but why should I have to put up with this Mexican who makes everybody’s life a misery? Why, Mr Watling?”
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By Lidia Adaman-Tremblay
Yes, hell found me the day I chanced to see you. Do you remember that day? I remember it like it happened yesterday. The day is forever etched in my mind in brilliant colours, as though some mad artist simply upturned his buckets and bottles and tubes of paint in careful and orderly chaos, just reckless enough to smudge the edges of reality.
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By Mollie Claire
Everyone in New England remembers the blizzard of ’78. The news stations would light up at the slightest sign of winter precipitation. It was an opportunity to relive the blizzard of ’78 through choppy newsreel and commentary, while reminding locals to stockpile bread, milk and eggs. Me? I remember the blizzard of 2005.
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