Weekly Flash Fiction

Moronavirus

5/3/2021

"Next!"

A man sat down on one of many chairs lined up across the stadium: he was that day's patient no. 2,394. A bored-looking nurse stood waiting, ready to deliver yet another moronavirus vaccine.

The man grunted and rolled up his sleeve. The nurse delivered the jab.

"Feel all right, sir?"

"Feel nothing at all," the man insisted. "Climate change is a hoax, there's no pandemic, guns are the answer, Black lives don't matter – "

The nurse leaped back. "Stand back, everyone," she sighed. "The pandemic has mutated into yet another deadly strain of human. We need a new vaccine."

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Analgesic Housework

12/2/2021

Sometimes, in the afternoons, she would catch herself staring wistfully into the middle distance. Why did it have to be, she would ask herself? Then she would take a deep breath and throw herself into some analgesic housework, or perhaps she'd bake a cake. But a walk offered too much opportunity for remembering.

Her husband had struggled even more, and eventually, she'd lost him, too, unable to live in a home filled nowadays with only sadness and memories. She didn't blame him: no parent is ever prepared for the loss of a child.

At least she had a clean house.

Strange Girl

5/2/2021

It began with a strange occurrence: a pool of vomit in the tenement block's garden. Had someone jumped over the fence? A fox, perhaps? When it happened again a few weeks later, at exactly the same spot, a few neighbours wondered, whispered, but no more.

Lynsey's room was directly above, three storeys up. A nice kid, attractive and successful, when she began wearing long-sleeved tops and jeans, where before she'd worn cami tops and skimpy shorts, no one paid much attention.

One day, she left and was never seen again. Finally, Lynsey had found a way to make people notice.

Take It Easy, Take It Easy...

29/1/2021

Me and my son are taking a spin in my new wheels, a used Presidential "Beast" with 'Trump for President' scored out. For monsters like us, perfect.

"Dad," my son asks, "what's your favourite sport?"

"Monsters like shooting disobedient writers, son. The ones that can't follow instructions. Bullet through both arms at once, great fun."

"Not the head?" the boy asks.

"Doesn't work. They've no brain."

A little further down the road, we stop at a MacMonsters. "Fancy a writerburger, son?"

"Yes, please, dad. Can I have ketchup?"

"Sure, but only a vegan burger bun. Gotta think of the planet."

A Hot Date

22/1/2021

This is cheating – it isn't actually fiction.

It's 1972, and it's a promising early date. Her parents are away from home, and she's cooking that seventies' retro classic, spaghetti bolognese. In the kitchen, she invites me to taste the ragu: we agree it needs a little cayenne. So she goes to shake the little pot... and the entire top comes off, depositing a mound of red powder into our evening meal.

I insist that we scrape what we can off the top, then eat it. It tastes... spicy.

49 years later, we still eat lots of spicy food, but these days I do most of the cooking.

A Modern Marriage

15/1/2021

Their marriage was based on mutual understanding. Like many millennials, they never spoke, whether in the street, sitting side-by-side on the sofa, or even in bed. Their sole medium was the mobile phone.

At first, they communicated in textspeak: "Fancy something 2eat? A little 4play leading to 6?" Eventually, they moved on to homespun emoticons – :( or :) or even :x, but these offered even less scope for literary discourse. Then of course, emojis followed.

One day, disaster struck – she dropped her iPhone down the toilet. Unable to speak, he assumed she was being unfaithful and the inevitable happened: D4s.

Snowmen

8/1/2021

From the kitchen window, Mark was relieved to see Jason happily constructing a snowman, using carrots, rocks, and old hats and scarves of Steph's. It was their first winter since Jason's mother's suicide, and Mark knew Jason missed her desperately.

Mark stood briefly watching the boy safely occupied, then turned away content. But an hour later, Mark was concerned that he'd heard nothing for ages.

Racing into the garden, he saw two snowmen – one was clearly a small snowman, the other a snowwoman. Jason, meantime, had disappeared. Then he spotted the red tears beneath the snowwoman's eyes.

Mark screamed.

Hogmanay Fireworks

1/1/2021

Hogmanay, 2020: the famous Edinburgh street party fireworks display has been cancelled because of coronavirus.

Like many couples in their mid-eighties, Catherine and Jack will welcome 2021 in their bed. They're still having fun, though, imagining their own bedroom "fireworks" – rockets, Catherine wheels, jack-in-the-boxes, roman candles, bangers – anything with double meanings. Eventually, Catherine invites Jack to "light her fire", and they burn brightly for almost twenty minutes.

Later, as they lie exhausted, Catherine says, "So, now we've discovered that mysterious 'COVID vaccine side-effect' they warned us about. If we asked, do you think they'd give us a booster next week?"

A Homeless Christmas

24/12/2020

For one homeless family, it's their third Christmas living like sardines in just two spare rooms in an uncle's flat. Underneath the tiny tree is a handful of presents, all for the two children.

The ten-year-old boy has two parcels. One is a new pack of playing cards, the other is The Pan Book of Card Games. Quickly, the mother leaves the room, fearing that her son will see her tears of shame.

But the boy is thrilled. For him, a new world has opened: cribbage; bezique; solo whist; gin rummy; and so many others. It's his best Christmas ever.

Terminal Neurostupidoma

27/10/2020

The surgeon was showing the patient an x-ray of his head.

"Bad news, sir," said the medic. "That mass in your brain is terminal neurostupidoma."

The patient shrugged. "Nothing wrong with me, doc."

"Typical symptoms are complete deafness and blindness. You feel nothing."

"Deaf? Blind?"

"What's climate change? Black lives matter? COVID?"

"Don't exist. Bullshit, all of them."

"As I said, sir, deaf and blind. That and your hat."
The patient stood up, marched over to a wall mirror and pointed to his red baseball cap.

"So? It's a regular cap. Popular brand – AGAM. Everybody's wearing them."

"Not everyone, sir."

The Girl in the Crowd

2/10/2020

Sometimes, I see her in distant crowds. I try to ensure she doesn't see me, but I suspect she's picked me out once or twice. I'm not sure who's likely to be more embarrassed by memories of our brief liaison, her or me. We simply needed each other at the time, but it turned out that her need for me was even more short-term than my need for her. And it was hardly ideal for morale to discover that I wasn't even her only one.

I'd still love to know what she saw in me during those few short weeks.

Remembering Tom

11/9/2020

As she did that same day each year, Jane sat on the park bench, gazing at the gap in the skyline where Tom had once worked. Why, she asked herself? Thousands dead in the aeroplanes, in the buildings, and amongst the emergency workers; countless thousands more in the years of reprisals that followed. What God could condone such unspeakable evil?

Jane clutched an old red Nokia 3210 mobile phone, remembering Tom's last words: "I love you." She brushed a tear away.

A hand gently touched her arm. "Come on, Mum, let's go home. It doesn't get any easier, does it?"

Analgesic Housework

4/9/2020

Bleak Factory

14/8/2020

Kismet Quick surveyed his asbestos processing factory, relishing the noise and intense heat, then did his hourly worker count to ensure that no child was slacking.

Suddenly he yelled, "Mrs Screech! Where's Hamill?"

A round, red-faced woman appeared, breathless. "Jack Hamill's with me, getting his finger sown back on, Mr Quick."

"Why? Does he NEED them all?"

"Well – "

"Get him back to work. Iodine on the missing finger!"

Mrs Screech nodded, returning with the injured boy. Beneath her own machine, Emily smiled, knowing that, as the only ones with sensible names, she and Jack were destined for each other.

When God's Patience Finally Ran Out

7/8/2020

God looked at Her inbox and sighed. Ever since She'd gone all IT and invited prayers online or via social media, She'd been swamped with demands for action on one topic: sexual harassment. Mainly from women, the complaints were of inappropriate comments and, of course, intimate touching. One third of all women confessed that sharing a lift with a man alone made them afraid. Then there was Harvey Weinstein and the #metoo movement.

By 2019, God's patience had run out. They were quite right. It was time to make everyone respect each other's personal space. Time for a new coronavirus...

Might Be Something in It

17/7/2020

They were both reading: she was browsing Women's Health, while he was deeply engrossed in Golf Monthly. Suddenly, she broke the silence.

"It says here that couples who share the housework have much better sex lives." She didn't look up.

"Hmm?" He didn't look up either.

"I put the dishes in the dishwasher." He didn't reply, so she continued, "There are still pans to wash."

"Hmm?" No more.

She sighed, stood up. "I'll deal with the pans, then I'm off to bed."

"Goodnight, love," he said, eventually.

"Goodnight," she called back, then added more quietly, "Might be something in it."
.

Strip Battleships in Lockdown

26/6/2020

"C3."

"Hit," Sarah sighed, slowly removing her bra.

In Lockdown, they'd discovered the delights of Strip Battleships on Zoom. Each 'hit' obliged the other to remove an item of clothing.

Now, each sat wearing just one thing. Sarah missed with D6. From her sofa, she noticed that, behind Chris, the cooker needed cleaning.

"C4."

"Damn!" Sarah cried. She stood up, turned around, and slid her knickers to the floor. "Satisfied?"

"Very. Ready? GO!!"

They arrived at their bedroom simultaneously. Battleships got them in the mood every time, except that once when they accidentally dialled her mother into the game, too.

Chopin Waltz in D flat

10/4/2020

In COVID-19, Simon saw opportunity: master Chopin's D flat "Minute" Waltz.

Even for concert pianists, the Minute Waltz requires nearly two minutes' performance. No virtuoso, Simon's record was over five. Now, trapped in lockdown, Simon set about practising non-stop each day from morning till night.

Two weeks later, he could play the entire piece in under four minutes; by week six, in just three. During week twelve, Simon smashed the two minute barrier. Then... silence.

Days later, police discovered Simon's decaying body slumped over the keys. No one had noticed: his neighbours had long ago self-isolated from his piano playing.

The 74 Last Words from the Cross

10/4/2020

One day soon, ladies and gentlemen... one day soon, I know we all shall walk together in harmony... that people of all genders, of all ages, and of all races and religions will discover the shared joy of our common diversity... that those blessed with wealth, good health and good fortune will rejoice in sharing it with those less fortunate... that we will no longer fear the oppression of those paid to protect us –––––

The bullet fired from the crowd at that point pierced her skull at an angle of 34˚, simultaneously exploding her brains and the hopes of humanity.

STUPID-20

3/4/2020

After the plague came the next plague: STUPID-20. It began with one person, but was highly infectious and passed quickly from individual to individual in minutes. Transmission appeared either oral or through the eyes as people excreted and ingested stupid words.

Within days, people were stockpiling toilet paper; within weeks, as the pandemic swept worldwide, they were electing the stupidest people they could find. There was no cure, no hope.

Eventually, of course, enough people recovered to establish herd immunity in society. But as with the common cold, immunity didn't last long. When STUPID-21 appeared, the whole thing started again.

Valentine's Day Inspiration

14/2/2020

Rose lay back, smiling: she and Mark had celebrated Valentine's Day.

"It's amazing the things that come to you when you're making love," she said.

"I was a bit distracted," Mark admitted. "Go on."

"Imagine the heat we've just generated. If only we could hook everyone up to the Electricity Grid... all that renewable energy!"

Mark chuckled. "Well, if anyone in the entire world can make that happen, it's you."

He was right. On Valentine's Day exactly ten years later, Professor Rose Lennox received the Nobel Prizes both for Physics (body-heat transfer to electricity) and for Economics (combating Global Warming).

Miscarriage of Justice

31/1/2020

The judge stared disdainfully at Rabbie Burns, standing in the dock.

"Burns, you're charged with cruelty to animals, namely one poor, innocent haggis. How do you plead?"

"N-not guilty M'lud. But –"

"Silence!"

The Procurator Fiscal began to present the Crown's case: photographs of a disembowelled haggis; mobile phone footage of a club dinner; and the Address to the Haggis in Burns' own hand.

The judge looked down at Burns. "Well, Burns?"

"But it was Veganuary, M'lud! It was a vegan haggis!"

"Nonsense! Even vegan haggises have two short legs and two long ones. Guilty! Five years! Take him down!"

The Nice Boy at the Party

10/1/2020

Charlotte awoke, face-down. The bed was strange, the room was strange, she felt more than a little strange, too. She looked at her watch: almost eleven.

Memories of the previous night were hazy. She'd met a nice boy at the party. Perhaps he'd been kind and put her to bed. Charlotte could see her coat on a chair by the window.

She got up and found the bathroom. She slipped her jeans and knickers down. It was then, as she sat, she spotted his one mistake: her knickers were inside out. Suddenly, Charlotte's life would never be the same again.

Longed-For

5/1/2020

She gazed up at him. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He returned her smile. "Too long." He realised how much they needed this.

He asked, "Are you sure you're ready?"

"Don't be silly. Hurry up, it's cold."

Gently, he slipped inside. She gasped.

"Goodness, you're freezing!" she said.

"What do you expect?" he said. "We forgot to pack pyjamas."

"We haven't been camping for years. We were always going to forget something." She zipped up the bag. "Come, hold me tight, keep me warm."

So he did. And within a minute or so, both were in deep, longed-for sleep.

On the Horizon

27/9/2019

Standing on the rocky shore with the waves lapping around their feet, they were both struck by how cold the water was: melting ice from the Arctic had not only raised sea levels but made it chillier as well.

That was the least of their problems now. Now that the remaining mainlanders had discovered that the island could still grow food, they'd be on their way, hungry, desperate, prepared to kill for whatever they needed. Even if they survived the onslaught, the islanders knew that there wouldn't be enough food for everyone.

Someone spotted the first boats on the horizon.

<<Previous

Moronavirus

Analgesic Housework

Strange Girl

Take It Easy, Take It Easy...

A Hot Date

A Modern Marriage

Snowmen

Hogmanay Fireworks

A Homeless Christmas

Terminal Neurostupidoma

The Girl in the Crowd

Remembering Tom

Analgesic Housework

Bleak Factory

When God's Patience Finally Ran Out

Might Be Something in It

Strip Battleships in Lockdown

Chopin Waltz in D flat

The 74 Last Words from the Cross

STUPID-20

Valentine's Day Inspiration

Miscarriage of Justice

The Nice Boy at the Party

Longed-For

On the Horizon

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