All the Wrong Weddings

100 words about a disappointed mother
photo by Josh Felise 

‘Any news?’

Mum pours tea and shoves a plate of biscuits my way. She reckons Coeliac disease is a fad.

‘I’ve landed the celebrity wedding of the decade. I’m working crazy hours, but it’s worth it. They’re spending more on flower arrangements than I’ve spent on my new car.’

Mum tuts – not the news she’s waiting for.

I’ve run my own, thriving business for a decade. But I’m 36. I’ve neither husband nor children. In her eyes, I’m planning all the wrong weddings.

I’ve stopped listening to her long ago. I hope Dad’s back soon so we can talk business.

***

Inspired by this week’s In Other Words: Remember no one can

Faked It

100 words about a fake sex tape featuring a famous actress
photo by Krista Mangulsone

The video is so pixelated it’s impossible to tell if this is us or not. I know it isn’t. Fake me’s voice might fool everyone else, it’s not fooling me.

Like everybody, I loathe the sound of my own voice. I hate film premieres when I’m forced to sit through my latest blockbuster and pretend I enjoy it.

Whoever’s behind the tape, they know about the affair. Still, these are actors playing other actors in a sterile hotel room. They’re not us. Her voice doesn’t grate on me like my own does.

I smile at the journo.

‘It’s a fake.’

***

This is one of these stories I suspect may be too long to fit into 100 words. What do you think?

Out of the Picture

100 words about a holiday breakup
(c) Louise Bunting 

I’ve been wandering the beach by myself for hours, the sky overhead mirroring my gloomy mood. Dunno what made me look up but I’m glad I did. I’d have missed how the sunset lights up the houses otherwise. Stroke of luck, I suppose.

I’ve been walking to clear my head. I think I did but I don’t like these new thoughts that have popped up.

Then again, Tim and I’ve been going on holiday together for a decade. Isn’t it telling that I finally take a photo worth writing home about with the two of us out of the picture?

***

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers week 49 – it must be Tuesday. Join in and/or read all stories here.

Oh, and before I forget again, my third Mslexia guest post has been up for a few days.

Local Attraction

100 words about a lonely ghost
(c) Barbara Beacham for MFtS 13 Oct 2014

The people waved at him from the bridge below.

He was a lurker, they weren’t supposed to see him. But it’d been so long since anyone had reacted to his presence, he couldn’t help but wave back. The children smiled and hollered at him.

From that day on, he lurked closer to at the edge of visibility. At first, most hikers didn’t notice. But soon word spread.

He has become an attraction in his own right and he never disappoints his audience. At the first sign of a hand raised in greeting, the waving ghost of the creek fades into view and responds. He’s the local tourist office’s dream.

***

It’s been a while since my first MFtS catch-up story, hasn’t it? It didn’t turn out the way I wanted, but I’m writing with a massive headache today and that never leads to noteworthy prose.

Drunk Late Night Texting

100 words about last words
photo by Steve Buissinne 

I know texting you is a violation of the injunction, but I am almost literally on fire. I’m sitting in the bathtub, breathing through a wet washcloth. I called 999; I don’t think they’ll make it in time.

I never apologised. I wonder if I’d apologised, we’d be in this mess. I would still have hit you, though. I wish I hadn’t hit you. You should see me now – anger management has turned me into a new man. I wish you could have seen him.

So, I’m only texting to tell you that you’ve nothing to fear from me anymore.

What Gwen Needs

GwensDesk
photo by Negative Space 

‘Gwen, darling. Is everything okay?’

What Gwen needs is foundation strong enough to cover bruises. What she doesn’t need is a boss nosing around in her private affairs.

‘I’m fine, Cas.’

She puts her coffee on her desk, turns on the computer and sits down. Cassandra keeps watching.

‘You can tell me, you know. I had an abusive boyfriend once.’

Blatant lie.

‘I don’t have a boyfriend.’

Cassandra sighs. She’s bored. She loves nothing more than a vicarious drama. It’s the reason she runs this business, to experience other people’s struggles second hand.

Gwen may also need a new job.

(You’ll find all instalments at the bottom of the Serials page.)

Final Ascent

100 words about dying on a mountain
FFfPP week 3 photo prompt from Public Domain Archive 

I brought Dad’s photograph with me.

The climb is more difficult than I remember. My nine-year old legs didn’t tire as easily as my skinny, 38-year old legs do. I wish I could blame loss of youthful energy.

‘If this was the last thing you saw, wouldn’t you die a happy bunny?’

When the food shortage got worse, I suggested we come back. There’s neither snow nor fog anymore, only relentless heat. View’s still worth it, though.

But Dad didn’t make it, he was too malnourished. He died two days ago, holding the photograph in his hand.

So will I.

With a Spoon

100 words about cutting somebody's heart out with a spoon
(c) Sonya, 2016

The humble spoon. It looks innocuous. Some might call it benign.

Some have no imagination.

I don’t have a lot of time for people who pride themselves on their knife skills. Cutting out your victim’s heart with a knife, where’s the artistry in that? Also, a knife takes away the element of surprise. You pull a knife, people scream and fight and beg for their lives before you’ve begun to have any fun.

I get my spoon out, people laugh. They think they’ve been pranked, look for the camera.

They stop laughing pretty sharpish.

Because it’s dull. It hurts more.

*** Continue reading

Politely Defiant

‘Good morning, Mrs Chamber.’

She ignores me. Always has. At first, I put it down to my unfamiliar face. After six months of meeting most mornings when I leave for work and she walks her obese Yorkie, I’m not an unfamiliar face.

She talks to other neighbours. I’ve heard her greet the bloke from upstairs – the one with the wife who left him after he’d beaten her one time too many.

No, it wasn’t that my face was unfamiliar. It’s that my face is brown. Bigoted old biddy.

Wishing my next-door neighbour a good morning, it’s an act of defiance.

Favourites

100 words about a first date
(c) Etol Bagam for FFfAW 48 

The only free spot is by the pool table – less than ideal for a date. Standing comes with pitfalls, though – too close, too far away – so he sits down. Should he have waited outside? The place’s packed, she’ll have trouble finding him.

He is certifiable levels crazy for her. He’s afraid it’ll show. She arrives late, which, in a way, is good. His nerves have settled.

‘My favourite table. How did you know?’

‘I had a hunch.’

‘We’ll have to play, obviously. Let me win and you’re my favourite guy.’

No trouble letting her win – he’s never played pool before.