Short story, Writing journey

Flash Fiction Friday: Chinese Lanterns

 

This was written using the following writing prompt from my writing group

Chinese lanterns writing prompt

 

Chinese Lanterns

The glowing Chinese lantern rose high in the sky and then faded away into the distance.

“They are still here,” murmured Josie.

“Pardon?” my mum crouched down to hear my little sister’s muffled voice behind a tightly-wound scarf, but she refused to say anymore. Instead, she ran down the hill, flapping her arms as if she wanted to take off. We thought nothing of it.

We did not listen. Not when our rabbit disappeared, along with many others in the street and Josie whispered, “It was them”. Nor when my dad looked up from the local paper in shock at the sudden rise in dog abductions. We did not notice the lack of insects buzzing around the garden; we enjoyed the lack of flies infesting the wheelie bins. Birds no longer sang at dawn and we casually ignored it all.

It was the knock at the door we heard and the slam of Josie’s bedroom door. She stood at the top of the stairs dressed in her favourite clothes, along with her fairy wings crushed beneath an overpacked backpack.

She grinned and declared, “They are here”.

Short story, Writing journey

Flash Fiction: Chickens

This must be one of the  most bizarre ramblings I have written but the prompt below popped up on Twitter via #turtlewriters so here goes.

Chickens

YouTube made it look so easy when we watched it over a few pints at The Beehive. All we had to take a few cells from the dinosaurs DNA we had and insert it into the chicken eggs. Daily,  we watched the clutch of eggs in the incubator Jack had nabbed from work. Waiting and waiting. Day 21, there was movement as a couple of the eggs wobbled. Anticipation filled the air. This was it. This was our key to being millionaires. We were going to be famous. A crack appeared. Then another. We all inhaled deeply and held our breath and out came – a BLOODY chicken!

Where was the clutch of miniature triceratops we were expecting? Simon, the nerd and brainchild of the project  just shrugged his shoulders before downing his pint.

That said we are still rich and famous. After all no one can resist taking part in the Chicken Derby on a Sunday afternoon.

Short story, Writing journey

Flash fiction: Memories

So many memories are bombarding my mind, waiting to be heard, seen and felt. Visions flash before me; first places I have been and then faces. Some are laughing, smiling and others are sobbing and even full of fear. All of them I have known from before. Some I hold dear and loved deeply yet others like the man with an upturned moustache was just a passerby walking his dog.

But they told me I would forget.

I recall voices. So many voices all talking at once, merging into one hellish cacophony of noise.

They told me I would forget.


The memories keep on coming, speeding up making me feel sick. I want it to stop.

I want to forget.


Then I remember a memory clear and slow. The sky is clear and blue. She is in the doorway holding our baby and she smiles as I turn and wave goodbye. I promise them I will be home soon. I remember.

I do not want to forget.


I hear the scream. The thud.  Silence.
Anger and frustration burn inside me building up. I scrunch my eyes, ball my fists and yell as loud as I can.


Then I forget.

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