The Clapham and District Pirate ChoirIt had been a long day at Pirate Primary School and the Ruthless Edward (aged 6) was getting ready for bed. He sighed as he pulled on his pyjama bottoms. He really wanted a wooden leg like all the cool kids but Granny had said he couldn’t have an amputation until he was 18.
Insects“Thank you for coming in,” said the interviewer, as they settled down on opposite sides of the desk. “It’s Mr. Carlton, isn’t it? May I call you Paul?”
HomonymsDarren was carefully pouring a jug of water into his biology textbook.
I've Really Lost My MindThe young man smiled, with just a touch of embarrassment. “I seem to have lost my mind.”
SmugglingJohn was in the frozen vegetables aisle, contemplating the advantages of peas over broccoli, when Sherlock suddenly appeared beside him.
Floor Coverings“Oh, dear God!” Abruptly, Watson found himself horizontal.
The Prosecution Rests"You? Doing jury service?" grinned John, reading his flatmate's letter.
Trailing BehindJohn hadn’t been able to drop off at all in the caravan. Sherlock, conversely, was sleeping like a baby. Up every two hours and making a hell of a racket.
The Karma Train‘There is nothing worse than going to school by tube!’ said Alice.
The Business of Dreams“So what’s the pitch?” asked Harper as he strode into the room. “This better not be a waste of my time like last time.”
Ezra and the ImagistesImagism was not created in a classroom, or in a gathering of academics. The Imagist movement was born in a Kensington tea-shop in the spring of 1912, at a meeting between three good friends: Ezra Pound, Hilda Doolittle (better known as H.D.), and Richard Aldington. “Like other American expatriates,” Richard Aldington later wrote, “Ezra and H.D. developed an almost insane relish for tea. Thus it came about that most of our meetings took place in the rather prissy milieu of some infernal bun-shop full of English Spinsters” (Life 134). This particular meeting had been called by Ezra Pound, upon receiving copies of a handful of H.D.'s latest poems. “Ezra was so much worked up by these poems of H.D.'s that he removed his pince-nez and informed us that we were Imagists” (Aldington Life 135).
Soul FlyUncle Levi and Auntie Gertrude and Katie didn’t miss Gramma. They didn’t even think about her until her Soul Fly Day came. Their flies were silver with big sparkly opal eyes, but Momma said the wood ones Grampa carved for us were just as good.
SketchyGraphite creatures crawled over planes of white, crossing lines like railroad tracks. Those in lead were the lucky ones. They- the flying tortoises, the moaning pumpkins, and the sea monsters with no gills- had been completed.
The Lord gathered all the writers and divided them into four groups.
To the first group He said, “You will be novelists and you will make a living from your work.”
To the second group He said, “You will be poets and people will admire and be moved by your work.”
To the third group He said, “You will write short stories and people will enjoy your work.”
And to the final group He said, “You will write flash fiction and… Yes, well, sorry about that.”
My name is Frankles. I'm a writer specialising in flash fiction.
(When I get called home, there are going to be words.)
Unless a man is in part a humorist, he is only in part a man.