Flash Club September Flash Club Contest

[Emily]

(A day late, apologies!)
This month, I'm looking for a piece of Flash Fiction, up to 700 words (no more) with this photo as prompt:



(thanks @Pamela Jo for the inspo )

The entry with the most votes on the 30th of September, 2023, will be the winner of an extraordinary hand-crafted (!!) virtual trophy. And, more importantly: some of our very prized, and internationally-renowned, virtual Litopi-cake.


***NOTE!***
A thumbs up/like = 1 vote
"heart-eyes" and a "laughing face" emoji vote = 2 VOTES.



The competition is open to all members. Feel free to enter more than once.


-The main rules here are:

Your entry must be original work

We ask you not to critique

AND

Please make your entry anonymous by clicking the anonymous button, but if you forget, don't worry, that's okay too. (Note: Guardians can see who posts.)


Best of luck!

 

[Anonymous (5155)]

The Love Letter

The key’s cover had been lost long ago. He had been pressing on the small, exposed nub of a button for years. It had taken a while to get used to, he remembered, but after a while it had not been a problem.

Now, however, even the little button had decided to give up.

He sat, staring at his reflection in the window, and thought of all the words that he could no longer create. Felt oddly bereft.

The nouns: fox, xylophone, examiner, Sphynx, xenophobia.

The adjectives: exciting, relaxed, extinct, sexy.

The verbs: to vex, to tax, to exhume, to extinguish, to exult.

The idioms: x-factor, x-rated, x marks the spot, to wax lyrical, to go the extra mile.

It was time for a new laptop.



During the two days that it took for his order to arrive, he ruminated on what a world without the letter X would be like.

No taxes – good.

No sex – bad.

Not that he’d had much of the latter in recent years.

He added ‘no ex-wife’ to the list.

 

[Anonymous (8ba9)]

Off The Record​

I went to the council office and this fatty-man left me totally bewildered. He kept on and on until I was feeling quite dizzy. Lovely chap, mind you, with polite manners and a pale blue tie, but he wasn’t listening to me. They’re hopeless round there... didn’t even make me a nice cup of tea. Our Gordon couldn’t come and speak to him… he’s very good with these fatty-men.

Then I went to the neighbourhood office and this foreign girl couldn’t understand me. I tried and tried but she didn’t get what I was saying. Lovely kid, mind you, with beautiful eyes and long black hair, but she didn’t know what I was on about. They haven’t got a clue round there, though she did make me a nice cup of tea. Our Gordon came along and explained it all to her… he’s very good with these foreign girls.

So they sent the workman to fix it. I told them not to come too early, but he was here at eleven o’clock, so I made him a nice cup of tea. He was one of those girlie-boys like you see on the telly. Lovely lad, mind you, ever so helpful and friendly, but I didn’t know what he was telling me. He did sort the problem though because it doesn’t stick any more. Our Gordon couldn’t come and talk to him…. he’s very good with those girlie-boys.

Then the inspector came to check it all out. He was one of those Scottie-men with an Irish voice that I couldn’t understand. Lovely fella, mind you with a nice smile and he had coffee instead of tea, but it’s no good if he can’t make his words clear. He did say it was a very good job though and that the problem was now sorted. Our Gordon just missed him… he’s very good with those Scottie-men.

I tried to tell our Gordon when he came round, though he doesn’t always listen to me. It wasn’t the window that needed fixing, just the hinges and the catch, but he didn’t know what I was on about. I think he’s gone to see that Brenda again even though I’ve told him often enough that she’s a flighty-one, but he takes no notice of old ladies like me. I don’t understand why he always goes to see her at this time of night… I hope she makes him a nice cup of tea. Mind you, I must admit he’s very good with these flighty-ones.

 

[Anonymous (f187)]

The Return

She turns off the headlights before turning off the highway.

The old country store, she and Gil would ride their bikes to as kids, sits abandoned. The setting sun highlights what is left of a once ponderosa pine filled skyline.

She can see the window with its warm orange glow in the distance. Her foot presses on the brakes. The car crunches and rolls to a stop in the middle of the gravel road.

Even in the darkness, she can see the scorched land. And, it doesn't feel the same. Not because it looks different, everything looks different now.

This time she is alone.

A shadow moves across the window and her stomach lurches. She almost decides to turn around. It would be easy to drive off now and never return. The shadow moves across the window again. She's not sure if she is ready to explain it all, but she knows that's what she'd want.

Her foot lets up, and the car creeps forward. Her childhood house is gone, reduced to rubble along with most of the others. The shadow, who she can now identify as Gil's brother, appears in the window again. It swings open, Daniel leans out, and shouts something. Only she can't hear it with the car door shut.

It takes a moment to put the car into park. She fumbles with the lock for another minute before shoving the door open and planting a foot on the dry grass.

"I can't believe that thing is still running," Daniel shouts from the window, she looks up. The smile on his face calms her nerves a little.

"Best car I ever had." She taps the hood like one does a beloved pet.

"Only car you ever had," He says. "I'll be right down." He disappears from the window, and she shuffles up to the front door. Closer inspection tells her the house is worse off than it first appeared.

The door swings inward, the orange light pours around her, and Daniel envelops her in a hug before she knows what is happening. When he pulls back, she can see lines on his face that weren't there before. He brushes the scar across her cheek.

"I guess we're all a little worse for wear," he says, then waves her toward the kitchen. "Let me get you a bowl of soup. I made potato-leek." The house is quiet. She pokes her head into the living room before following him down the hallway where she stops and stares at the last family photo. Three years has changed everything. Daniel pokes his head back into the hall looking for her and sighs.

"I'm the only one left," he says. A lump forms in her throat. "Come, come," he beckons her into the kitchen. The windows are steamed over. In no time, a bowl of soup is sat in front of the both of them, and she isn't hungry.

"Mom and dad went a few weeks after Gil. They were run off the road. Hit a tree. Died instantly," he explains. The lump grows larger. She stares at her soup. Her hand moves to the scar on her neck. Under it, she can feel the piece of metal holding her collar bone together.

"Gil wasn't as lucky," she begins.

 

[Anonymous (36d1)]

Goodnight, John-boy.

Goodnight, Jim-Bob.

Goodnight, sis.

Goodnight, Who-ever-else-was-in-the-series-and-whose-name-this-author-has-forgotten.

Goodnight, pet cat.

Goodnight, doggy.

Goodnight, all.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

 

[mickleinapickle]

Goodnight, John-boy.

Goodnight, Jim-Bob.

Goodnight, sis.

Goodnight, Who-ever-else-was-in-the-series-and-whose-name-this-author-has-forgotten.

Goodnight, pet cat.

Goodnight, doggy.

Goodnight, all.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Poor Elizabeth. Everybody forgets to say goodnight to poor little Elizabeth.

 

[Anonymous (cc01)]

Mrs CW Jones was the heart of the cul-de-sac. Nobody else said so, nonetheless she was convinced it was true. If someone's lawn became unruly she dropped in with a basket of homemade bran muffins. Every. Day. Until the grass was mown.

Same with cats or kids getting out of line. Though stronger measures like a word to local constabulary might be called for.

So people left their keys with her when they were off on holiday. It was the course of least resistance.

Alfred Birtwhistle handed Mrs CW Jones his front door keys with infectious excitement. He and his wife Phyllis had never been abroad before.

“Alfie, I’ve never seen you look so alive!”

Mr Birtwhistle grinned ear to ear, “I’ve always said, as soon as I retire, I’m off to Greece. I can’t believe I’m finally going.”

Phyllis came out of the house and tapped her watch significantly.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Alfie. The house will be just as you left it when you two come home.”

Mrs CW Jones was never sure just when the light began to go on in the Birtwhistle house. There was no one to compare notes with. For all her helpfulness to the neighbourhood, no one dropped by for a gossip or to check on her. She led a solitary life. Always had. She’d never married. The Mrs was because she felt it gave her authority.

That lonely light in the back bedroom, as if someone was awake and couldn’t sleep, troubled her. The Birtwhistle’s mail was collected and plants watered every other day as promised. Nothing was ever missing or out of place. Except that light coming on after midnight. Finally, she threw on a dressing robe and went over. Her knock wasn’t answered so she let herself in.

“Helllooo.”

She felt the house was listening, but there was no sound. A moan stopped her as she started upstairs.

“ I’m so alone.”

“Who’s there?” Mrs Jone sighed with relief when Mr Birtwhistle come out of the kitchen.“Alfie, am I glad to see you.”

Her neighbour looked thin and pale. Not at all the tan, rested figure she’d expected.

“Phyllis?”

“No. It’s me, Alfie. From next door.”

Mr Birtwhistle covered his face and began to sob.

Mrs CW Jones knew where the kettle was. Tea was brewing in short order.

“Come , Alfie. Sit down. Tell me what’s happened.” She held the chair for the stricken man to sit. “Where is Phyllis?”

“Hospital,” came the whisper. “Car, out of nowhere.” Mr Birtwhistle broke down again. "On the way to the airport."

“Oh, how dreadful.” Mrs CW Jones was genuinely fond of her neighbours. Her hand reached out , but Mr Birtwhistle turned away.

“Phyllis will be home soon. I’m getting things ready for her.”

“The light on in the bedroom at night, that’s you.” Mrs Jones didn’t wait for an answer. “ You could have let me know you were home.”

“Mostly I’m at the hospital.” Mr Birtwhistle wrung his hands. “I’m only here at night.”

Mrs Jones left with a promise to care for the house so Mr Birtwhistle could continue his daily hospital vigil.

Thereafter if the light in the window woke her, she would slip over to ask about Phyllis, hoping to hear she’d improved. The injured woman got better, then worse, then better. Each time Mrs Jones asked if his wife was coming home Mr Birtwhistle shook his head.

Her heart broke every time he whispered, " But I'm bringing her back with me soon."

When Mrs CW Jones woke to find a lorry blocking her drive, she flew out to give the driver a piece of her mind. Then she saw the Birtwhistle furniture being loaded.

“What’s this?” she asked a man with a clipboard.

“Picking up for the Birtwhistle estate sale.”

Her heart fell. “Phyllis died?”

The man gave her the look busy men gave batty old ladies. “We just sell dead people's stuff. So Yeah" Seeing her face he added, " I hear the wife held on as long as she could. A real fighter. Must be a huge hospital bill.”

“Come to think of it,” Mrs CW Jones reflected, “the light hadn’t awakened her for awhile.”

 

[Emily]

Congratulations to our winners... for the first time (since I took over), we had a near collective win: as in, there was a tie across the board

So, CONGRATULATIONS to:
@Claire G , entry HERE

@mickleinapickle , entry HERE

@Becca T , entry HERE

@Pamela Jo , entry HERE

Well done

 

[mickleinapickle]

Fantastic! Thank you.

 

[Pamela Jo]

Fantastic! Thank you.

Mick you are becoming a force to reckon with on Litopia. Congrats 2 mos in a row.

 

[Pamela Jo]

Thank you Emily. I will be enjoying my champagne and cake.

 

[mickleinapickle]

Mick you are becoming a force to reckon with on Litopia. Congrats 2 mos in a row.

It's the virtual cake that spurs me on. Last month's was chocolate fudge with a bloomin' big cherry on top. I scoffed the lot in one sitting.

 

[Becca T]

Thanks, the virtual cake is delicious.