How many of you are collectors? As a youngster, I collected baseball cards. I’ve known people who collected stamps, coins, and belly-button lint. Not to be outdone, President Trump sports an impressive collection of ex-wives.
While collecting can be a fun, relaxing hobby, it can also become an obsession. The exhilaration of finding and adding a new piece to the collection is addictive and requires a frequent “fix” to satisfy the craving. Now’s the time to come clean. What do you collect?
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the curator of 100-word stories is Gertrude Vanderbilt Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to submit your tale to the weekly collection, zip over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
“There he is,” whispered Platoon Commander Connie. “Shoot him.” She carried the flashlight while I lugged the heavy artillery, a bolt-action .22.
“Hold the light still.” The beam bounced around the backyard like a ping-pong ball in a blender. Sensing we were in a state of confusion, the armadillo launched a full-frontal assault and came charging toward our ankles.
A piercing scream shattered the night and echoed off distant planets. Rays from the flashlight ricocheted off tree limbs, power lines, and jet planes as the platoon commander retreated at warp speed–abandoning the lowly private in a vacuum of darkness.
*the above is an excerpt from a true-life adventure known as the “Battle of Gardenville.” The complete story will be included in my upcoming book.
Poetry, Horror, Psychological Thrillers
Stories From Within
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.
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
All the Blogging That's Fit To Print
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.
A Humor Blog
Stylistically Abusing Language for the Betterment of Mankind
Straight up with a twist– Because life is too short to be subtle!
An author's perspective of mystery and more.
And the worst things. And all that weird stuff in between.