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The 10 Days of Flash Fiction Challenge

For April 23 I am taking part in a flash fiction challenge with deadlinesforwriters. Previously I had only written ‘normal’ length short stories with them, and ‘only’ one per month. This has been a lot of fun and the challenge sounded like I could learn a lot from it.

My Conclusions

So what am I going to take away, now that the challenge is over?

• I am positively surprised that I actually submitted a flash fiction story every day, even a little proud of myself. Okay, a lot.
• I am also surprised I did not let my worry of not being good enough keep me from submitting. The act of clicking the send button was satisfying enough.
• Another surprise was how easily I can decide what has to go and then actually delete it. If I can transfger this ability into other parts of my life, that will be massively helpful.
• It was so inspiring so read everybody else’s stories. Some people are fantastic in finding the creepy in every prompt, some write episodic sagas about the same characters every time and some jump around among the genres like me.
• For me, funny and dark stories flow much more easily than romantic ones.
• Writing is really educational: Prompst, that did not immediately inspire me, made me go into research mode for more meanings and idioms.

I am definitely going to keep writing every day, just not all stories. I follow a few instagram accounts that posts prompts for short stories, flash fiction and/or six words stories. How much meaning you can squeeze into so few words is fascninating and magical.

The Stories

Keep It together

(Prompt 21 – Transform, 50 words )

Times are complicated. So are people.

She prepares for another day of protest. More and more, people realise the system has to change and fast.

The more resistance they face, the greater their desperation and resolve.

She grabs her helmet and shield. In the riot police van, she wonders how long until she joins the protesters.

Family Affair

(Prompt 22 – Berry, 300 words )

Rose is really looking forward to tasting her grandma’s cake. Why do grown-ups have to complicate things?

I can’t believe they are making me wait. My grandma makes the best strawberry cake in the world and I saw it in her kitchen, still I have to wait. Lunch was good, too. But it’s really the cake I want.

There’s a swing in Grandma’s garden and I love the way it makes my stomach go all woozy. Back and forth. I can go so high, watch my feet against the blue sky and the white clouds. I can smell the strawberries from up here.

‘Come inside, Rose! Time for tea!’

‘Coming, Mum!’

I jump off the swing. Mum is waiting for me at the back door and gives me a hug. She holds on a bit too long and too tight, so I wiggle out of her arms and run inside.

Dad is there, his face a bit red. Weird, Grandma’s house always feels nice and chilly to me.

Mum sits down. The way she sinks into the chair, she looks smaller than at home. She looks down at the table.

Grandma frowns at me. I wonder when she is going to serve the cake.

‘Bella, you really ought to teach your daughter to-’

Dad says very quietly, ‘Mother, I told you, I am not going to accept any more of this.’

‘Well, I am just trying to help! If your wife doesn’t know how to raise your child properly-’

‘That’s it! Bella and Rose, we’re going home!’

Nobody listens to my protests so I end up in the car with them. They both start speaking at the same time.

‘Thank you-’ and ‘Forgive me, I’m sorry I let this go on for so long!’

On the way home they buy me chocolate biscuits. The way Mum looks at Dad makes them taste even better than strawberry cake.

Surprise Upon Arrival

(Prompt 23 – Print, 75 words )

Speed of travel does not always outweigh the risks of new technologies.

‘First time?’

The technician directs me to the illuminated pad. Wonder what gave me away.

‘Just sign here… Initial there… Move as little as possible.’

Everyone I know has tried this and I need to get to Hamburg fast.

I realise something is wrong as soon as I materialise.

‘Oh, your nose got lost in the teleport. Happens sometimes!’

Her shrugging is not at all helpful.

My word of advice? Always read the fine print.

Crash

(Prompt 24 – Bleed, 150 words )

A few seconds can be enough to turn your life upside down. Literally.

I watch the blood leaving my body, warm and rich and red.

My brother wanted to show me his new car and something was wrong with the brakes. He had worked hard to earn the money for this red machine of his dreams. Just to have it veer off the road on our first trip together.

I don‘t remember much. The motor screaming. My brother shouting. The sky jumping underneath us, then back up again.

Weird how our future can be decided in a short moment. Some people get out of a crash with hardly a scratch, some are not so lucky.

I wonder if he ever thought about his dream car being the colour of blood. Should he have chosen the blue one instead?

The bag is almost full now. About a pint. I had to beg them to let me do this and hope it helps save him.

In the Shadows

(Prompt 25 – Lurk, 250 words )

Life in the shadows is mostly waiting for those exquisite hours you are set free.

I lie in wait, hiding in the dark. Today she stays up later than usual, which delays my evening plans. To my surprise, she watches a film about a serial killer. Wonder what made her take an interest in that one.

I don’t want to use force. Yet. I bet I could make her fall unconscious but I actually enjoy her being unaware of my presence.

Cleaning her teeth. She even sets a timer and follows the same brushing pattern every night. It makes my skin crawl. Well, figuratively.

I observe patiently as she applies her night cream, undresses, hangs her clothes across a rack, puts on a pyjama and goes to bed. Finally!

Eyes closed, her breathing slows down. I give her fifteen minutes to really sink into deep sleep. The waiting just increases my anticipation and I pass the time imagining my hands squeezing a neck, listening to the gurgling.

She twitches and moans, and I try to calm down, so she does too. Neither of us will benefit from last minute confusion.

When she is asleep at last, I stretch and rise up from my hiding place. This is what I live for, these few delicious hours every night when I am free.

From the inside, I open her eyes, move her body upright, put on the clothes from the back of the wardrobe she hasn’t yet found out are there.

Then the two of us walk, as one, out into the night for some more revenge.

Good Friends

(Prompt 26 – Sour, 120 words )

It’s such a relief to have a friend that you can rely on to not complicate things.

Bea waits under the cinema marquee. The February rain is not enough to sour her mood, she is looking forward to watching another comedy with Max. Before COVID, this had been a regular activity for them.

One great thing about their friendship is that they have so much in common. Their tastes in music, in food and video games.

What she also appreciates is their absolute lack of complication. They are just here to enjoy a few laughs together.

At last, Max comes running, his hair wet. For a moment he looks deep into Bea’s eyes. He takes a long breath, then pulls a single red rose from his coat.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’

Bea cringes. So much for ‘just friends’.

End of Decade Surprise

(Prompt 27 – 80’s, 6 words )

I for one had never expected the 80’s to end like this.

Siblings cry, dancing across the Wall.

With Old Age Comes Equanimity

(Prompt 28 – Domino, 50 words )

Next time he might even forego the jump suit.

He jogs around the corner in search of a secluded place. Opens his bag and swears.

‘Again!’

He considers flashing home to pick it up. Wonders if it’s worth it squeezing himself into the lycra suit.

In the end, for the first time, he saves the day without his mask.

Herbal Remedy for Estranged Souls

(Prompt 29 – Pot, 300 words )

June has to sort through her late grandmother’s possessions. Her sister being there doesn’t make it any easier. Disclaimer: Be careful when taking drugs 😉

After calling the funeral home, I am on my way to meet my sister to sort Grandma’s belongings. Now she is my only family left.

I still can’t believe it. There was so much to discover in Grandma’s crammed little house with the garden full of flowers and herbs. We used to laugh so much together.

Now we have to decide what is worth selling and dump the rest. The thought makes my throat feel tight and my heart hurt.

May is waiting at the house and I am struck by how much she resembles Grandma. We haven’t seen each other in years and her eyes are completely dry.

‘Hi June, let’s not drag this out. I don’t think there is anything in here I want to keep, so if you want anything, feel free.’

‘Good to see you too.’

Inside, I am hit with the familiar smell of dust and incense. I make a beeline for the photo albums and stuff them into my bag, no need to open them to know what’s inside.

May shakes her head.

‘If you ask me, none of this will make any money. Wait, what is that?’

I follow her into the kitchen and realise she is talking about the blue and white porcelain pot on the shelf.

‘It’s her cookie jar. Or that’s what she called it. There never were any cookies in there. Well, that’s what she told me.’

‘Looks antique.’

Both of us grab it at the same time and I manage to catch the lid. Also some cookies falling out. May stares at them.

‘June, do you remember the three of us baking when we were little?’

An hour later we are on the floor, laughing our heads off at the old photos. I guess Grandma would have approved.

The Gift

(Prompt 30 – Unknown, 150 words )

Would you like to know what’s coming?

The envelope was addressed to him. No sender, but on the front it said ‘Don’t miss your chance!’ in red.

Inside, he found a sealed paper bag and a letter:

You have been chosen to see the future! Open your present now!

He felt the bag, rolled his eyes, but broke the seal anyway. There was nothing in there, so he decided this was just a prank. He threw the whole thing away, ignoring the tingling down his spine.

That day, for the first time in his life, he won all rounds of poker with his neighbours.

On the second day, he asked for and was granted the promotion he had spent years waiting for.

But on the third day, he woke up screaming. He ran outside in his flannel robe, eyes wide, pale as a ghost.

When the people laughed at his warnings, he wished he still didn’t know.

Thank you for reading! Have you taken part in a challenge like this one or have you published flash fiction stories online? Let me know so I can read them too.

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Like my 2023 challenge contribution to flash fiction part 3? On my blog you can find and read more of my stories!

The 10 Days of Flash Fiction Challenge

For April 23 I am taking part in a flash fiction challenge with deadlinesforwriters. Previously I had only written ‘normal’ length short stories with them, and ‘only’ one per month. This has been a lot of fun and the challenge sounded like I could learn a lot from it.

What I have learned so far

• I don’t have to like all my stories the same. The point is to write and submit them in time.
• I don’t have to be inspired by all prompts the same. Some of them spark something instantaneously, some of them I struggle with. There is no actual pattern to this.
• Or maybe there is? ‚Simple‘ and ‚Lovely‘ were hard for me, while ‚Flash‘ and ‚Flame‘ inspired me. As did ‚Birth‘, oddly enough.
• I don’t have to have a certain process. Sometimes sitting down for a ‚date with my muse‘ works. Sometimes the prompt has to stew in the back of my brain until the evening.
• Having no idea what to write is just as tricky as having too many ideas. These past 20 days have given me a lot of opportunity to practice making decisions. And going with them.
• There are online tools that help you capitalise your titles. Very handy.
• The process of trimming a story down to the specified word count is fantastic for practising letting go and prioritising. I learned a lot about deciding what is important and what isn’t.
• I can enjoy the experience of not always coming up with something deep and beautiful.
• I really can stick to the schedule and write a story every day.
• Writing stories everyday means that I have less time to blog. This isn’t good or bad, it just is. I make a decision on what I want to prioritise and then accept that I did not choose the other option.
• Some people are wonderful in the way they give feedback.

The Stories

Three Hours till Bismarck

(Prompt 11 – Sixteen, 250 words )

Away missions are always educational. For example, you learn not to drink Pikor Ale, to study the shuttle’s manual well in advance, and to make every team member feel included.

‘Oxygen level still falling,’ the computer chirped.

Bella, the science officer, was out cold from the drink the Pikor had served. As the mission’s diplomat, Lara had known to not partake.

She checked the electrolyser chamber manual again. There didn’t seem to be any technical problems.

‘Computer, is the release valve blocked?’

‘No obstruction detectable.’

Lara scratched her head. ‘Send the distress signal again! How far to the Bismarck?’

‘Signal sent. The Bismarck is 0.16 light years away.’

‘ETA?’

‘Estimated meeting in about 3 hours.’

‘Will the oxygen last?’

‘Life support failure in 1 hour.’

Lara closed her eyes and counted to ten. Mental Health class paid off now. However. In hindsight, she should have been as attentive in Basic Engineering.

At least Lara remembered the microleak detection lesson. She fished the vacuwand out of the drawer and went to work checking the entire damn shuttle.

Nothing.

The oxygen countdown display was now at five minutes. Lara counted to twenty.

She shook Bella again, hard.

Nothing.

The mediwand said she was alright, just unconscious.

Feeling woozy, Lara asked, ‘Computer! Can’t you do something about the oxygen level?’

‘I can run a diagnostic and attempt to repair any malfunctions.’

‘What? Well, go ahead then!’

When Lara woke up, she could see the Bismarck through the front screen.

‘Computer, why did you let me run around and panic? Why didn’t you tell me you could save us?’

‘You never asked.’

Lara made a mental note to improve diplomatic relations with the AI.

Employee of the Month

(Prompt 12 – Gone , 250 words)

When he took on the gig , Frank had no idea this would be the last magic show of his career.

‘And now for my last trick!’

It took a lot for Frank to maintain the smile. One of them had been asleep in the last row for fifteen minutes. David, the manager, wouldn’t stop goofing around on stage with the props. Frank made a mental note to never accept a gig at this office supply company again.

‘Soooooo, any volunteers?’ he asked. ‘The lady in the purple dress? No?’

The paper people sat and stared.

‘This is your once in a lifetime chance to…’

He whispered, ‘Vanish from sight!’

‘Aahh, I’ll do it!’

Frank blinked. David grinned and bowed in advance. The woman in purple hid her face in her hands.

‘Ooooookaaaaaay! An applause for David! Now step into this cabinet here! But don’t touch anything in there!’

Frank shut the door, tapped his wand against the cabinet and mumbled under his breath. Then, his gaze on his audience, he threw the door open.

For the first time this afternoon, people clapped and whooped: David had vanished!

Frank chuckled, ‘Not to worry, you’ll get him back in a second!’

Tap, mumble, open door, pose, wait… What?

David was still gone. Frank shook the cabinet. Crouched inside. Scratched his nose.

‘Um. I’ll sort it!’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ The purple lady gently pushed him offstage. ‘Look at the time, I bet you have a train to catch. Here’s your cheque and some extra! We’ll post your props! ’

Later, at the station, Frank decided to take up juggling as a side job.

Tight

(Prompt 13 – Bind, 100 words)

Alex and Charlie are good friends. Until their relationship is tested.

Alex runs until he is out of breath, cursing. Had he knocked, he wouldn’t have seen Charlie change.

The other boys are waiting for them.

He thinks of his father watching the news.

‘There’s something wrong with the parents if kids turn out that way! Glad you have your head on straight, son!’

Wrapping yourself like that? He has trouble breathing, just from imagining it.

Charlie arrives late, arms crossed in front of their chest, glancing at Alex. Alex grins and pats his friend on the back, more roughly than usual.

‘Hey, there you are! Let’s chat up some girls!’

Mother And Son

(Prompt 1 4 – Birth , 250 words)

This time she is determined not to let anyone take her child away.

Here in the forest, the two of them are safe. At least for now. She has given birth before, but she has almost no recollection of the other two children.

Each time, the guards came and took them away shortly afterwards. She could hear them crying for days, because they kept them close by, out of sight but not out of hearing range. Whenever she stood at the gate and called for them through the bars, someone came eventually and pushed her back. Shouted at her to shut up.

Two days ago she saw a chance to escape through a gap in the electric fence around the compound and took it. She ran and ran. Through the mud. Into the forest. Stumbling through the undergrowth. Until she had to lie down, exhausted but free at last.

He was born tonight. She doesn’t realise how lucky she was that things went so well. She cleaned him as best she could, kept him safe and warm. He latched on hungrily and drank until he fell asleep, closed those big brown eyes. She has no plans for what she is going to do tomorrow. She has never been here, in the outside world.

She is tired too, but he smells so soft and sweet, she can’t get enough of him, his pink nose. She listens to him breathing. The tiny bull calf has the same black and white face markings as his father, but she doesn’t know that. She never even met him.

Spark of Humanity

(Prompt 15 – Flash, 300 words)

A legacy of blood and fire passed on through centuries.

A woman squats beside the fire, her gaze fixed on the stones in her hands. One is heavy, the other sharp. She hits the flint blade one last time, smiling at the sparks. She is ready for the next attack.

At dawn, the king rides in front of his army. They know the enemy is behind the hills. They know there is little hope for this battle to bring them victory after years of war. Still, the king raises his sword, catching the sunlight. They roar and run forward.

In the trenches, a soldier reads letters from home. The ink is almost worn away and the paper is thin from folding and unfolding. He is so immersed in the words of love that he only sees the streak of light seconds before it hits the ground. The grenade explodes a safe distance away from him. Shortly afterwards, he hears the screaming.

The streets are decorated in black, white and red. Young men march to the music of a military band. They parade past their families, their boots polished to an immaculate shine, blinding their eyes to what lies ahead.

On a Wednesday, a soldier who never signed up for any of this, runs from a house, his eyes wide. He throws up against a tree. In his mind he replays the way the flames reflected on the pool of blood.

The same man, a father now, pulls the belt from his trousers and holds the gleaming buckle in his shaking hand. His daughter has no idea why this happens every Wednesday.

The same daughter, a mother now, sees her son squatting beside a pile of shards. His eyes glisten with tears. She grips the broomstick hard and makes a decision.

‘I’ve never liked that vase. Come, give me a hug.’

Still Not Enlightened

(Prompt 16 – Simple, 50 words)

Peace of mind is hard to learn and possibly even harder to teach.

The pupil was furious with the master.

‘What is all this Zen good for, if I still don’t understand it?’

The master sat and smiled.

‘Why do you keep all the explanations to yourself? Why can’t you make this simple?’

‘The answers are simple. But I can’t make them easy.’

Belle of the Ball

(Prompt 17 – Lovely, 120 words)

The perfect dress. A dream in black and royal blue.

Tania cut the last threads, and lifted the gown up from the worktop. When she shook it, the royal blue skirt billowed like an ocean wave, the black velvet top shimmered in the lamplight. She held it close to her body and tried a few twirls.

Jesmin had been watching. ‘If I wasn’t your best friend, I’d be jealous of your talent!’

Tania already saw herself swaying across the dancefloor.

Until Mr Hossen burst in.

‘Who do you think you are? Hang it with the other ones and return to work! I don’t pay you for dreaming!’

The dress swung back and forth on the rail as Tania bent over the next one she would never be able to afford.

Daughter of Fire

(Prompt 18 – Flame, 100 words)

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Caitlin would disagree. Maybe in part because she knows what is to come.

Caitlin ties her long auburn hair together. She does not want it to get caught while weaving her last spell.

The liquid in the small bottle is clear and viscous. She adds a length of wool and finally a stopper. She draws sigils in the air that create orange echo images within the liquid. Almost done.

She sneaks into the chapel and hides the flask underneath the lectern. Upon her leaving, sacrificial candles light up all at once.

Two days later, Caitlin dies on a pyre. The night after, the entire village burns to the ground, starting from the chapel.

The Substitute

(Prompt 19 – Sleep, 250 words)

There is a reason Priscilla is still wide awake at 3am, but none of her friends are going to believe her.

This has never happened to Priscilla. She has heard about ‘tossing and turning’. It’s even more annoying than she could have ever imagined.

The clock tells her it’s three in the morning. She gets up and walks into the kitchen to get some water. She shouldn’t have eaten the entire vegetable bake.

Back in bed, Priscilla worries that this might be hormonal. Lots of friends her age talk about waking up from sweating too much. She doesn’t feel particularly warm, though. On the contrary, her bed is as comfortable as always, the blanket snug, her pillow just the right level of soft.

She wonders if she should read something when she hears a tiny voice griping from somewhere under her bed, ‘I know! First the sand shortage, suddenly I have to take over Ernie’s route, and I am pretty sure they’re not going to pay me overtime. Yeah, tell me about it! Oh!’

The small person now standing on Priscilla’s bedside table stares at her, frozen.

‘You can see me? Erm…’

He has a tiny device on his belt which he hits repeatedly with his free hand. He sighs, then reaches deep into a tiny bag.

‘Nothing to see here, it’s aaaaall just a dream!’

The last thing she sees is a tiny handful of sparkling sand thrown her way. She can still hear the voice, just not filter out any words.

‘Okay, I am back, Ernie’s last is done. Hope she won’t find out about the sock goblins next!’

So This Is Goodbye

(Prompt 20 – Tissue, 120 words)

Laura may need to get a bigger box of tissues.

Laura lay on her settee, her right arm flung across her eyes. Crumpled up tissues already covered the carpet, yet she reached for another one to blow her nose again.

Today Lily would leave her. After a wonderful week of watching TV, cuddling, napping together, talking over breakfast. Laura sniffled and wiped her eyes.

Lily came in and looked around.

‘Would you like another bite before you have to go? There are leftovers.’

Laura got one more plate from the kitchen, but Lily only stared at the food until the door bell rang.

‘Thank you! If it hadn’t been urgent, I would never have asked you!’

‘Looking after your cat was a pleasure. What’s a bit of allergy among friends?’

Thank you for reading! Have you taken part in a challenge like this one or have you published short stories online? Let me know so I can read them too.

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Like my 2023 challenge contribution to flash fiction part 2? On my blog you can find and read more of my stories!

Schwarzsauer and Schlager

Part 4 of my „12 Short Stories“ for 2023

Based on a prompt by Mia from deadlinesforwriters.com

I remember when I was about twelve and couldn’t go on holiday with my parents and my sister because I had broken my foot. And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

I was supposed to stay at home, sit on the couch and mend. It didn’t hurt any more, it had turned into a permanent itch.

Jamie kept calling me to ask if he could come over. Mostly, I ignored the ringing, at least when she wasn’t in the room. Sometimes she rushed in, wheezing.

‘Who vas sat? I vas in the keller. Why didn’t you take up se telephone?’

‘No one, Grandma. Wrong number.’

‘How can you know? Maybe it vas your parents?’

I gritted my teeth. How could someone have been living in a country for so long and still not be able to speak the language properly?

‘It wasn’t. Just ignore it.’

‘Vood you like some food? I can make Labskaus again.’

My stomach chose this particular moment to growl.

‘No thank you, I am not hungry.’

She had made me eat Labskaus before and it had been an education. Think mashed potatoes, mixed with corned beef, chopped fermented herring, pickled gherkins and onions.

‘I can make somesing osser? Vat do you vant?’

What I wanted was to be able to have visitors. Without having to explain this woman being around the house and generally smelling of moth balls. If they had ever met her, I would have been so mortified.

‘Your faser alvays loved Schwarzsauer ven he vas little. He became homesickness and it helped.’

I didn’t have the energy to correct her, but wished for my parents to return. I wished my grandparents had never left their home country. Nobody else in my class had to deal with any of this. I just wanted to be normal.

She went to the stereo cabinet and flicked through my father’s record collection. I knew what was going to happen. The ‘Schlager’ record they had given him as a wedding present. The one he never listened to when they weren’t around.

‘It is nice, or? You know, sis is a part of you too!’

She sang along in a language I didn’t understand and swayed in a rhythm that didn’t quite match the music. Something inside me snapped.

‘Just shut up! I have had it with your ‘vat’ and your ‘somesing’! Why can’t you be like Jamie’s Grandma? Why can’t you learn to make normal food and talk like a normal person?’

She looked at me, her eyes wide. Then her face crumpled. When the corners of her lips dropped, it hit me: I had seen that face before. It had appeared in the mirror after those particularly bad days at school. Like when Tom had pushed me from the climbing scaffold and laughed at the ugly sound my foot made hitting the ground.

I wiped my hands across my face and took a breath.

‘I am sorry, I really am. Grandma, can you teach me German?’

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Would you like to read more of my stories? You can find them here!

The Flash Fiction Challenge

For April 23 I am taking part in a flash fiction challenge with deadlinesforwriters. Previously I had only written ’normal‘ length short stories with them, and ‚only‘ one per month. This has been a lot of fun and the challenge sounded like I could learn a lot from it.

So here I am and here are the first ten stories. We are given a daily prompt and a word count at midnight and then have time to submit our stories within a 24 hour window from 8am until 8am the next day.

I did learn a lot, not least about punctuation of dialogue and capitalisation of titles. But also about my process of getting inspired. Or how to handle being totally uninspired. And I get to read some amazing work by the others in the group and receive some very valuable feedback.

The Stories

Casual Monday

(Prompt 1 – Bust, 150 words)

If only the job interview had taken place in winter.

She was mentally preparing for yet another interview when the man thrust his arm through the closing doors of the lift. She had already illuminated the button she needed. He pushed it again.

She rolled her eyes and wiped her forehead. This summer heat was an extra nuisance. At least the colour of her dress made her feel somewhat happy with herself this Monday morning.

She recognized him from the photo. The same smart suit and slick hairstyle. Halfway up, she realised he was also looking at her, but not from the corner of his eyes. He stared at the region below her neck, his grin showing teeth.

At their stop he left first, only to have to ring the bell at the door to the offices. She unlocked it and brushed past, saying ‘I can’t wait for you to explain why you are the right person for the job.’

Old habits

(Prompt 2 – Tea, 35 words)

Warning

Someone dies.

35 years together and neither Lydia nor Henry have so far skipped their tea time tradition.

They always have a cuppa at 5pm.

After lunch, Lydia left on her bike to see a friend.

Henry chooses her favourite loose leaf.

Lydia‘s cup has gone cold by the time his mobile rings.

Like Riding a Rike, Only Completely Different

(Prompt 3 – Coach, 250 words)

Meta is bothered by how her career choices seem to make her muse flaky.

‘Now, what exactly is bothering you about this assignment?’ Brigid leaned back and steepled her fingers.

‘I don’t know – the word doesn’t inspire me. Or it inspires me too much. It’s what I ended up not making a career of and I can’t write about that.’

‘Who says that you have to? Who says you can’t skip today?’

‘It’s a challenge. You are meant to accept it and just do it. I can’t just, you know – arrrgh!’

‘Where did you say you name was from?’

‘It’s German. Bit old-fashioned’

‘Hm.’

‘The e is long.’

‘Right.’

Brigid tilted her head and continued. ‘What would you say is the upside to this task?’

Meta sighed and closed her eyes. ‘Not much comes to mind. Of course, I could be reasonable and talk about how it’s good for me and my discipline. But today I just feel stuck.’

‘I guess that some very mean person signed you up for this without asking you?’

‘Ha ha, not helping!’

Brigid smiled. ‘I am not here to help, at least not in the way you seem to be hoping for. You know that. Tell me, what is the worst thing that could happen if you just started typing?’

Meta looked at her hands. ‘I might not find a perfect ending,’ she murmured.

‘And what if your story did not have the perfect ending?’

Meta stood up. ‘This is not working. I should write about the mother showing her daughter how to ride a bike after all.’

Perfect Shadow

(Prompt 4 – Minutes, 120 words)

It is not recommended to do photosensitive spells in a hurry. But sometimes circumstances converge to force your hand.

Where was Yolanthe with the Agrimony? Even in the silent darkness, Lexa felt the sun already gaining strength again. If she didn’t succeed before the end of the eclipse, the unfinished spell would blow up in her face.

Lexa preferred planning for contingencies over improvising. Today, however, she had had to prepare in a hurry.

Her hands shook when she dropped the ammonite into the cauldron, but too late: All at the same time, flames lit up the village, the shadows dissolved and the sigils on the ground exploded.

From her almost empty bag she pulled her last tool. The sword, stuck in there at the last minute, flashed in the sunlight.

Time to make the dragon pay for Yolanthe.

Anosmia

(Prompt 5 – Scent, 50 words)

Losing your sense of smell is bad enough. But what if this new disability was the least of her problems?

Her home looked the same as before the accident.

She sniffed the air, trying to remember. Nothing. No memory and no sensation.

The tree outside had been bare, hadn’t it?

It was not because of the loss of smell that she never found the sign saying ‘Specimen 456, switched 04/23’.

What Goes Around

(Prompt 6 – Blame, 120 words)

They say the moral arc of the universe is long. Mercs are looking to bend it.

Only one lamp now, have to save energy. I thought we had time, but the fires reached Denmark yesterday. There go the last crops.

Those weather scientists should have spoken up sooner, people should have elected better politicians, instead of blocking roads or debating plastic straws.

My dad thought bigger. Built a lucrative business. Before he died from that chicken bug. Why wasn’t anything done about biosecurity while there was still time?

Mercs roaming the streets. Nobody has money left to pay them, even my millions are gone. Now they are just looking for revenge.

I check the steel doors to my underground bunker, when I hear them shouting outside. There is a click and the single lamp goes out.

The Perks of Being Royalty

(Prompt 7 – No, 99 words)

Sometimes you have to be brave and just ask for something. You might even get the answer you want.

The prince looked from the slain ogre to the woman he had just saved. After a few seconds, the hunter master cleared his throat and wiggled his left hand.

‘Your highness…’

The prince blinked. ‘Oh, of course!’

He reached into his pocket to produce a huge diamond ring which sparkled in the sunlight. As he held it out to the woman, her eyes went wide, her hand clutching her chest.

‘Um. I’m supposed to marry you now. If that’s alright with you?’

When she politely declined, he let out a deep breath and grinned. Happily ever after was overrated.

Gardening at Night

(Prompt 8 – Lawn, 300 words)

The mayor and his secretrary are faced with yet another case of vandalism.

‘Mildred, you have to come over, it‘s happened again!‘ The mayor sounded out of breath over the telephone.

Mildred’s clock said that it was 8am on a Saturday morning. He would have to pay her overtime.

‘Of course, Mayor Brown, I’ll be with you shortly!‘

She finished her coffee. Someone really wanted to get on the mayor’s last nerves.

Mildred left her bike at the entrance to the park. There he was, sweating and red in the face.

‘There! How am I going to look in the pictures for the Rotary event on Monday?’

He gestured to the fresh beds of pink and white primulas in the middle of the green. The lovely springtime impression they made was marred by the fact that they formed letters. The message read:

POMPOUS GIT!

‘That’s a bit harsh Mr. Brown. I wonder what kind of person would do this. Maybe they should spend some time with you, find out what you are really like.’

‘Thank you, Mildred. But is there any way we can get this repaired in time? I want it flawless! Is there anyone I can rely on?’

‘I can ask around, but they are all very busy in spring. Also, it’ll be difficult to just make the letters disappear. Do we have the funds for rolled turf?’

‘Again? I don’t think the council will agree.’

‘Strange, Mayor Jones never had that kind of problem with them.’

‘Maybe because he always did what they wanted?’

Mildred gazed at the mayor.

‘Do you want me to call the turf company for a quote?’

‘Yes! Do you really have to retire next month?’

Mildred laughed. ‘I do, this is all getting a bit too exciting!’

Back home she rang her nephew’s landscaping company and thanked them for the excellent work arranging the primulas.

Paradigm Shift

(Prompt 9 – Leather, 100 words)

Fighting at the breakfast table, about shoes of all things, is not the best recipe for intergenerational peace.

‘If the stone age people hadn’t used leather, they wouldn’t have survived!’

So much for a quiet Sunday breakfast.

‘Dad, we are not stone age people.’

‘So you think plastic shoes are good for the environment?’

She gritted her teeth. ‘They’re hemp. Have you seen what is involved in the tanning industry?’

‘This vegan thing is just another phase. Like your hair used to be purple.’

She took a moment to really look at her father. His angry face. Then she said the magic words that finally shut him up:

‘It doesn’t change the fact that I still love you.’

Reincarnation Gone Wrong

(Prompt 10 – Blocks, 75 words)

What if we come back fully aware, only to learn that some babies are just mean?

They said I wouldn’t remember, but I do. I have been able to sit for a month, yet still no articulation, tongue all untrained.

Today we are visiting mom’s friend. She has a baby too, Cissa. She has lots of toys.

Cubes with letters on. I reach for them with my clumsy fingers, to send out a message at last. Cissa kicks the blocks apart and smirks.

I look into her eyes: She remembers too.

Thank you for reading! Have you taken part in a challenge like this one or have you published short stories online? Let me know so I can read them too.

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Like my 2023 challenge contribution to flash fiction part 1? On my blog you can find and read more of my stories!

Stainless steel and triple glazing

Part 3 of my „12 Short Stories“ for 2023

My contribution to the deadlinesforwriters short story challenge March 2023. Based on a prompt by Mia from deadlinesforwriters.com, picture by Armin Forster on Pixabay

Warning: Mentions death, but not too scary

From up here, you can see most of the Flatworth House estate: the rolling, luxuriant landscape with the lake, the trees, and the flower beds. The first couple of willow catkins have appeared lately, and I love how much softness they add to the scenery. From outside, the window is wet from last night’s rain. Good. The trees and flowers have not seen too much water this last winter, so every little bit is welcome. But even without those fresh green leaves, I could stand here at the window and let my gaze drift over the grounds outside forever.

Last night, I stayed up here in the attic again. At some point, it was fully decorated and furnished, so it’s very cosy and also peaceful. This cushioned ledge inside the eastward window is probably my favourite place to spend the early hours. The single glazing and the drafty frames may not be great for insulation, but this way the windows let through the happy birdsong from outside even when they are closed.

The wiring on this floor is completely shot. Then again, I don’t actually need a light to be comfortable or to find my way around the attic. Downstairs, some of the sockets still work. At least I think they do. One of these days I may find the energy to worry about this development, but having electricity is not that high on my list of priorities.

I have always loved this house and the gardens around it. This has been my home and my refuge for such a long time now. All the more annoying when these disturbances keep happening, seemingly from out of nowhere. What is worse, they turn up with increasing frequency. They make the weirdest of noises, apparently trying to spook me into leaving. I am determined to not let them succeed.

From the great hall downstairs, I can hear him, the latest in a long line of nuisances and the most persistent so far. I wish I knew what to do about him. As it is, for the moment I decide to remain calm and quiet. And resist the pull that is bound to make itself felt soon.

I was given a choice a long time ago — to either move on or stay here. As if I would ever have considered leaving this place. My first chance to escape that poor and loveless family, to be someone people respected, if only in a way. It may not have been a perfect life, but to me it was all I could have hoped for, considering all the other options.

Oh yes, there it is: the rhythmic banging downstairs. It is hypnotic and difficult to ignore. Why can‘t they just leave me be?

I turn my attention back to the gorgeous colours of the sky, with the sun rising higher above the hills behind the golf course. Someone should really look after it. Not that I am going to take up golfing soon, but still: The clumps of grass and weeds running rampant somehow spoil the otherwise perfect appearance of the Flatworth premises.

The pull is getting stronger now. I wish they didn’t have that much power over me. Not wanting to be dragged downstairs without any dignity, I decide to move through the door of my own accord. The staircase will never fail to take my breath away with its dark and smooth oak panelling, the colourful tapestries, and the deep purple carpet. I notice a few spiderwebs here and there and wonder what I should or even can do about them.

In this part of the building, the windows have been fitted with triple glazing and plastic frames, and the air is much warmer than upstairs under the roof. Someone must have assumed they would be able to sell the place for a better price if they made an attempt to meet modern insulation standards. At least they took great care to match the original look.

With less draft, the smell in here is much more representative of the centuries these walls have seen. The hall smells of dust and leather, of polished wood beams with just a tiny bit of decaying wool. It smells of home and safety.

I notice that the chandelier has also turned a tad dusty. Not too much to keep me from marvelling at the hundreds and hundreds of immaculately carved crystal pieces. They catch the morning sun’s rays and reflect them in a symphony of rainbow sparkles. Some time ago, the Flatworth family had a recurrent debate about it. Some thought it was just too glittery to fit in with the overall character of the elegant manor. As for me, I still don’t mind the glitter and have spent a large portion of my existence just basking for hours in the light’s dance through the crystals.

Another highlight of this big open space is the grand mirror with its richly carved frame. The wood has turned dark from how long it has been hanging here. When I move past it, I catch my own reflection and linger for a bit. I didn’t use to be so very pale back then, when I was much younger. When I joined this household, I was even initially teased about my tan, which had been the result of so much work in the fields. Now, my skin is as softly translucent as are my garments. There is a reason for the nickname people use for me when they think I am out of hearing range. I don‘t mind what they call me. What I do mind is not being left in peace.

I glide down the stairs. Noiselessly and also gracefully, if I may say so myself. Decades of practice have not gone to waste. You wouldn’t even hear a sound without the lush carpet. What a pity that I used to be clumsier in my youth; maybe otherwise things might have turned out differently.

I peek over the banister and see him downstairs. He has his grandfather’s face, but his body posture does not speak of nobility or family pride. His clothes have seen better days, too. His hair looks like it has not been cut for a month too many. It’s also started going grey.

Every time he appears, he tries out some new tricks to get rid of me. Today, he sits cross-legged in a circle of some whitish, powdery material. He is fanning a glowing piece of charcoal on a burner, a good distance away from his usual collection of shiny devices. The small, rectangular one seems to be the one producing the noises.

Can‘t even be asked to do the drumming himself. There is still hope at least, that today he will forego the chanting. It doesn’t achieve anything anyway, and he is not the best at holding a tune, so everyone benefits from him skipping it altogether.

‘You again!’ I shout, mainly to make him aware of my presence.

He looks up at me with an unreadable look on his face. If I were in his place, I would have mixed feelings too. Still, he could do himself an enormous favour and stop these constant visitations at last, which are just wasting his time and mine.

Finally, he answers. ‘Yes, it’s me again. Don’t think I have given up! There are still a lot of things I haven’t tried; a lot has changed since back in your days. See this here?’

He stands up in his circle and picks up a machine. It consists mainly of a metal cylinder the size of a hat box with a handle. It has a grey hose attached that ends in a nozzle. The hose wobbles as he shakes the device at me.

I laugh. ‘I hope you didn’t spend a lot of money on it. You have watched too many of those moving pictures. What do you expect to accomplish with that thing? Well, you could clean the carpet while you are here.’

‘Laugh all you want!’ he shouts back. ‘You’ll see.’

He goes back to fiddling with his charcoal, emptying a small bag onto it. The aroma of incense hits me. There is something in it that makes it harder for me to stay here on the upper level in front of the mirror. I feel my feet being forced deep into the carpet, almost touching the oak beam underneath.

‘New recipe’, he grins. ‘For stubLillian spent three years training as a healer. Now the day of her last exam is here.born cases. I ordered this resin from a witch in Sweden, famous for her success. And before you ask, I am willing to invest a lot of money at this stage. It’s really personal now, and I want you gone. And it’ll all be worth it once I sell this ghastly old place. They can tear it down and turn it into a golf resort for all I care! As long as I get my money at last!’

My choices are to either give in and move downstairs by myself or to be dragged through the wood of the steps. It would not actually be painful, just really unpleasant. He doesn’t need to know. Neither does he have to be aware of the fact that metal, on the other hand, really will effectively hold me.

He obviously hopes that it will. It increasingly seems like this confrontation might turn out more tricky than usual. I begin to worry a bit, careful not to let it show in my face while I walk down the steps.

‘Let’s see your little vacuum cleaner then,’ I say to him and wink, probably more for my benefit than his, because he still stands there with his head held high, grinning.

‘A fitting end to the White Lady! Ha! I found out the truth about you, by the way. A servant! My family took you in out of pity because your father was such a drunk. Your family was going to be kicked out of the little hut you lot may have called a house! Just imagine, people actually do believe there has to be some noble backstory behind you still hanging around!’

He leans out of his circle to plug his contraption in. This time, he is the one who winks as he flicks the switch. Then he directs the nozzle at me. It makes my stomach vibrate unpleasantly. I wish my feet weren’t glued to the spot. He lunges forward, but I bend to the side, so he misses and almost stumbles out of the circle.

I dodge his second attempt, but then he begins just sweeping the nozzle back and forth sideways. And then it catches. The hem of my dress is sucked in first, and for a silly moment, I wonder if the skirt will rip, leaving me exposed.

Oh God, it’s happening! I am stretched and squeezed all at the same time, rushing through this narrow tunnel of rubber! No! No, I can’t be trapped in this tiny box;! it is unbearable! The noise, the darkness! Is he laughing? I need air! I need space! This can’t be happening; why is there nobody here to help me?

I hear him shout over the fan’s whirring: ‘Ha! This is what you deserve! And this is where you will stay forever!’

The switch clicks and the noise stops at last, but that only gives my other senses more opportunity to realise the horror I am in. In my rising panic, I try to push at the sides of my prison. I should not have teased him that much, I see that now, but please, I can’t spend forever in here, compressed like this.

‘You are making a lot of noise for a lady!’ he chuckles.

‘I wonder what I should do with you. To be honest, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. How do you feel about being buried next to the golf course? Or I could just throw you into the lake. This is supposed to be stainless steel, so it’s not going to rust anytime soon.’ He sounds excited.

‘The good thing? I don’t have to decide now. Let me just pack my things and go home first.’

My prison tilts to the side, an extra unpleasant jolt to my stomach. Like he is leaning over. What does he need to reach for? A loud pop and another jerking motion, I guess he has just pulled the plug. But what is this crackling, like lightning? Am I falling? Has he dropped the metal box? Why?

Sparks! All around me there are sparks, blinding me! The metal casing screeches and rips apart: I am free again! The relief! Out of the corner of my eye, I see him sitting on the floor, the white circle scattered, but I am not going to wait around here any longer.

I zoom through the open door at the side of the hall, in the direction of the kitchens, and onwards along the narrow corridor. At its end, there is another staircase, not lavish or polished but grey and bare. I remember running up and down these stairs. Even in my boring grey uniform and the white headdress, I was young and happy then, enjoying the rush of speed, skipping and jumping. Now look at me running again, only this time not for fun!

At the foot of the stairs, I stop and try to find my composure again. It’s not as if I have to recover my breath, just my thoughts. The wall catches me as I lean back, making me wonder if the socket blowing was really just a coincidence. What are the odds, even with the state of the wiring being what it is? The idea of Flatworth House having my back is a great, if unexpected, comfort.

I hear steps coming closer. He is running, too, and catching up. There are three levels to climb until the landing at the top. I know I am faster than him, but there is nowhere to go up there. No wood to pass through to escape outdoors, just stone and glass. Damn the triple glazing and plastic frames! I rush upstairs anyway.

Up on the top level, I hear him wheezing behind me, but what really makes me shiver is the memory rushing back. This is where it happened. There is still a big chunk of the banister missing, and this piece of floorboard is still sticking out. Nobody thought of repairing any of this afterwards. Nobody ever comes up here, not since the young girl stumbled and fell.

There he is, out of breath, and I want to warn him. I hold out my arm, which does nothing to stop him, of course. He careens through the gap, tilting over, turning around in the air one last time, reaching out to me. His mouth is open, and his eyes are wide with surprise.

I wonder if he will be offered the same choice down there as I was. And if he will also choose to stay.

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Like my contribution to the story challenge March 2023? On my blog you can find and read more of my stories!

Today is a good day to fail

Part 2 of my „12 Short Stories“ for 2023

My contribution to the deadlinesforwriters short story challenge February 2023. Based on the prompt „blossom“ by Mia from deadlinesforwriters.com

Lillian stomped along the forest path, the snow crunching under her heavy boots. It was still early morning, and from the fast pace, her breath made clouds in the air. Her long brown cloak billowed behind her, and to the left and right of the path, small animals appeared to stare after her.

She had expected the last task to be difficult, but this? Even after spending three years in the apprenticeship, she had still been surprised when she had broken the seal on the letter and read Etta’s instructions. They were not supposed to talk about it among each other, but the assignments the other two had received had been nothing like Lillian’s.

She wiped a stray strand of wavy brown hair out of her face and reminded herself to slow down so she would not arrive overly dishevelled and sweaty. When she came to the clearing where their community hall stood, she paused for another minute to take deep breaths until her heart beat slowed down to normal. She also wanted to observe for a bit.

Most of the older healers were already there, huddled under the thatched roof. Some smiled and waved at her, some just looked, their faces unreadable. The two other students paced back and forth a short distance away from the wooden building. Ruby had her nose in a book, while Wilma was quietly talking to herself.

Then something in the air changed. The cold breeze stopped for a few seconds and birds stopped chirping as a slim figure entered the clearing. She was clad in faded black, her silver-grey hair pinned in a tight bun. From afar, Etta looked taller than she really was. Not for the first time, Lillian wished she knew the trick behind it.

Etta took a big key out of her skirt pocket and opened the door to the hall. Everybody rushed in behind her, greedy for the warmth of the fire burning in the hearth but still making sure to keep a polite distance from their superior.

“Let’s see this year’s harvest then!” Etta turned on the spot and motioned for the students to sit on three chairs separate from the rest.

Ruby went first, and Lillian was not in the mood to pay too much attention. When she heard applause, she remembered to smile at her friend. After that, it was Wilma’s turn. Again, Lillian listened just closely enough so she knew when to grin and show her two thumbs up.

“Apprentice Lillian, please come forward and present your potion!”

This was it. She rose from her seat, straightened up, and took a long breath. She strode towards the centre, took a flask from inside her cloak, and put it onto the table with a very quiet click.

“It‘s purple,“ said Etta.

“That’s correct.”

“One would expect a potion containing blossoms of sapphire quill to be light blue. If it had been prepared properly, that is.”

“Yes, one would, wouldn’t one?” Lillian conceded. “I did not use sapphire quill for this potion, though. Anyone with any herbal expertise would know that they only bloom during summer. I replaced them with morla berries and dried quill leaves from my pantry. Not only are they available now, the result will be much more potent in healing damplung. It will also be lower in possible side effects.”

Etta’s mouth was now a thin line. When she spoke next, her voice was deep and quiet: “Did it say anywhere in your letter that you were allowed to stray from your instructions? Did you pay any attention to Wilma’s exam just now? She followed her task to the letter. So did Ruby. Did you notice?”

“I noticed. They both prepared very tricky potions and passed. I am very happy for them.”

Etta folded her arms in front of her. In reality, she was shorter than Lillian, so at least with both of them standing, she could not look down her long, thin nose at her student. Etta made an effort nonetheless.

“I had high hopes for you, Lillian. We all had. You could always be counted on to fulfill your duties, carry out your assignments, read all the books. All of your charms were spot on, and you have an efficient touch with people and animals alike. That is why we chose this particular challenge for you.”

Her and Lillian stared at each other silently, until Etta went on: “There has even been a betting pool going on.” Her gaze shifted to a red-haired woman in the audience who did not even have the grace to look guilty. Instead, she grinned and winked. Etta shook her head and rolled her eyes, then looked at Lillian again.

For a while, Lillian had almost forgotten about the other healers in the room with her. So they treated her as a source of fun and entertainment on top of everything else? She was baffled. They had always seemed to get along well, and this was disappointing. She had assumed that they liked her.

“So you decided to give me an impossible task because I made an effort to be a good student?”

“I didn’t say that. And your task was not impossible. I am surprised that you would think us so mean.”

Lillian wanted to shout but used all the training she had had to keep her face relaxed and her voice neutral: “Nobody would have been able to find sapphire quill in February. I know it. You know it. And you know what else? I don’t care that you are going to fail me.”

Etta raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Because over the last three years you taught me well and you taught me a lot. So did the forest. And so did my patients. I am going to go back to my cottage and my village. And I am going to be a healer with or without your approval.”

In the silence that ensued, you could have heard a mouse scratch its nose. If it had been reckless enough to move right in that moment. The red-haired healer no longer grinned but leaned forward in her seat, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Ruby’s face was as white as the chalk on the walls.

“Hm,” said Etta. “Is this supposed to be a challenge? Do you really want to antagonise me? Your teacher?”

“No. This is not a challenge, and it has very little to do with you. This is about me. Today, I refuse to be defined by this assignment. Or by anyone betting money on my failure. I am grateful for your training, for sharing your knowledge and wisdom. At the same time, today I make my own destiny.”

For a short moment, Lillian felt like she finally had a grasp on the trick of looking taller than you were. Then she saw Etta’s folded arms and her knitted eyebrows and wilted again, even if only a tiny fraction.

“Your last word? You are willing to leave this hall, this community? You believe you can go healing without passing your exam?”

“My last word.”

The corners of Etta’s mouth rose higher than Lillian had ever seen them do. It was not clear however, if this was a grin of malice. Finally, the old healer winked and spoke:

“Thank you very much for helping me win a tidy sum of money. I knew that today would be the day for you to shine. Well done, and congratulations, healer Lillian!”

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Like my contribution to the story challenge March 2023? On my blog you can find and read more of my stories!