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 Inevitable“I think you know why I’m here.”
An Enid Blyton Tribute in Under 1,000 Words1: A New Term
FFM Day 29- What's Left BehindIn a dim parlor, the men sat in clusters, some chatting with ghosts, others staring mutely. Men muttered and cried, gritting teeth in agony- they reached for limbs that weren’t there anymore.
FFM 2015 19: Pastel CobblestonesShe was on a morning ride away from her village when a white cat darting across the path forced her to twist the handlebars of her bike to a sharp left. She juddered down a narrow flight of steps and almost collided with a mailbox.
Fav This TweetLady of the Æsir said:
Fight the UnfightableSummoned from its eldritch sea, the Hydra reared its heads, unfurling, silhouetted against the moon. The first head approached with a vicious twinkle in its yellow eye, its needle teeth bared in a deadly grin. Moist acid breath stung my eyes like ethanol.
FFM15 - 23: What Lies in the IceLOG ENTRY 7
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.