Well this is wickedly fun! If you’ve been following along, for the past month or two, Christine Hennebury and I have been playing a little collaborative photo-story game. I send her a random photo, and she riffs on it with a piece of flash fiction. Last time, we invited others to join us and LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED! We have a veritable treasure trove of flash fiction pieces. Some are here and some are hosted on the writer’s own sites – make sure you see all six of them!
Ready? Here we go!
by Christine Hennebury
â€œThe story is that her whole family just vanished one day. She was reading in the living room, the sounds of the house just kind of floating around her. Next thing, total silence.â€
â€œSeriously? Total silence?â€
â€œYep. Like a tomb.â€
â€œWhat happened to them?â€
â€œNo one knows. And she had the house taken apart, brick by brick, trying to find out where they had gone. Never found a thing.â€
â€œSo, whyâ€™d she leave the gate there like that?â€
â€œItâ€™s a open door, so they always can get back home.â€
“Yeah, I know.”
Click through to read:
by Lynn Jatania
by Mimi Golding
I used to live here, not so long ago…before we were evacuated.
They filed into the field of remains, looking in awe, exasperation, sadness and curiosity, but mostly nerves. Would they find it before the light faded? This was their last chance before the dam would be opened and all would be lost again … under all that water.
Click through to read:
Stairway to Heaven
by Gal Podjarny
Every now and then the wind would catch the metal gate. And even though I’d heard that clang at least a dozen times while I laid stiff in bed, it still made me jump. I wanted to escape to sleep. But my mind was thinking thoughts that I could never even whisper out loud … what if I woke up and she was dead?
But it never failed; I would wake to the sound of the kettle boiling and then the clink of a china cup onto its saucer. Slipping out of bed, I was warm to about mid-calf. That’s where my Nana’s nightgown reached. Her slippers were so tiny that I couldn’t even stuff my 9-year-old feet in them.
It’s all tiny. So very tiny.
Yes, yes, I nodded.
Yes, I agreed.
And isn’t it quaint … these old fashioned tea cups and saucers?
I led her outside of the house and down the front path. She took one last look around and handed me her business card. Sharon, real estate agent.
She turned quickly and walked away, pausing only briefly to check her cell phone.
The gate clanged.
And it makes me wonder
by Kev Needham
It was a fall holiday.
Nothing was open, and I had nothing to do.
I went for a walk.
The leaves were like gold upon the ground, birds were singing, and the odor of woodsmoke ringed heavy amongst the trees.
I ran into a lady who said I was familiar and, while certain we had met, she couldnâ€™t place me.
About double meanings, the wonder the world throws in front of us daily, and how the West was broken.
She was looking for something, but couldnâ€™t find the word that described it.
Along the brook back to the tree that was my plot.
Taking the fork from the path through the field to a place long forgotten.
The â€œFor Sale by Ownerâ€ sign, while faded, still bore my name.
â€œThis is itâ€ she said.
I asked her if she was sure.
I hope she gets to heaven.
So good, right? It’s so fun to see where everyone goes with their interpretation. And did you catch that two of the posts make completely random reference to Led Zepplin songs in the title? Feel free to give the writers a little love in the comment box.
Feel free to write your own piece of flash fiction and add it in the comments, or post it on your own site and link back to it in the comments. If you want to get on our email list, let me know in the comments and I’ll add you. No commitment required!