Have you ever noticed how inanimate objects gossip about each other? Just look at the picture below. Judy and Wanda are over in the corner whispering about poor Carol. Perhaps one of her wheels spins in a circle or flops like flat tire. Maybe she has some rust and corrosion on her frame or the latch is busted on her child safety belt.
Whatever the case, pointing out Carol’s flaws makes Judy and Wanda feel a little bit superior about themselves. Little do they know that Carol is about to be adopted by a homeless person and will receive more love and attention than they can ever imagine. Meanwhile, both Judy and Wanda will be slammed by teenage drivers and end up at the bottom of a ravine, twisted and warped beyond recognition, and left to die against concrete barrier with only some illegible graffiti to mark their final resting place.
I don’t know about you, but I feel better already!
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, let me introduce you to one person who will never speak evil of you and will always be a constant source of support and encouragement. Not only that, but if you forget to zip your fly she will tell you discreetly so that you don’t suffer public humiliation. I’m talking about our bus driver, Georgette Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here
Raul was pissed. Why hadn’t he listened to his father?
“Do not open an all-night Quicki-Mart so close to beach, my son. It will bring you nothing but pain, hard work, and unhappiness.”
His father was right. Everyone he hired for graveyard shift fell under some strange spell. Sunrise would find them wandering around the store wild-eyed and mumbling, “It’s true. It’s true.”
It was true all right. Sand and water was all over the floor. The worst part was retrieving the shopping carts. Raul decided to add quarter locks to the carts—like Aldi’s.
“That’ll teach those mermaids,” he muttered.
Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Poetry, Flash Fiction
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This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
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I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
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AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
I don't write, I touch without touching.
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Stylistically Abusing Language for the Betterment of Mankind
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