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Sue Spitulnik

Writing, Sewing, Travel, and Thoughts

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Flash Fiction

Black and White – Flash Fiction

“I failed an honesty test.”

“You? How?”

“The questions were grey and they wanted black and white answers.”

“Explain.”

“One was; have you ever taken anything home from work?”

“And you said yes.”

“I have, baking pans from the pastry kitchen.”

“But you had permission to borrow them. You didn’t steal them.”

“But I took them home.”

“They were asking if you stole things.”

“I know that, but that’s not how the question was worded.”

“You should have told them what they wanted to hear and not told the truth.”

“Then it shouldn’t have been called an honesty test.” Continue reading “Black and White – Flash Fiction”

If Only – Flash Fiction

Her father worked evenings. That was good. She rarely had to be alone with him.

Getting off the school bus she checked the drive. He was home. Damn!

He would expect her to walk around naked so he could ogle and touch her.

Her mother was buried, no longer a wedge of protection. No siblings.

She stood there, on the edge; go in or not.

She backed away, fishing for her cell phone. She touched the only safe number.

“Dad’s home, therefore drunk. Can you come get me?”

Waiting, she decided to stick with the lie, he gets mean.

 

In response to Charli Mills -Carrot Ranch Literary

January 25, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that goes to the edge. Consider what the edge might be and how it informs the story. Go where the prompt leads.

Respond by January 30, 2018, to be included in the compilation (published January 31). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

 

A Boy and His Dog – Flash Fiction

“Didn’t I tell you to keep that dog out of the creek?”

“I did Mama.”

“Then why are you both soaked?”

“Well, he rolled in the mud.”

“And?”

“I knew you would get mad, so I washed him and he shook all over me. It kinda felt good.”

“Wash him how?”

“I scooped water from the horse trough with my boots.”

“And where are they?”

“I put ’em upside down on the fence posts to dry.”

She stifled a smile. “Do you think that’s the way boots should be treated?”

“No ma’am, but they’s only rubber, not real ones.”

 

In repsonse to Charli’s prompt where she asks:

January 18, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes boots. Whose boots are they, where do they go and what is their significance? Go where the prompt leads.

Respond by January 23, 2018, to be included in the compilation (published January 24). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

PTSD Personified – Flash Fiction

January 11: Flash Fiction Challenge

In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about wet ink. It can be artistic, writerly or something completely off-the-wall. Go where the prompt leads.

“Doc, my family feared I would die shortly after the ink was dry on my enlistment papers. Now I’ve made it back home without a visible wound they want me to tell them what my days were like: what I ate, what I saw, if I met any nice girls. They have no idea all the Army wanted from me was a body count. Having done what I was expected to do in order to survive, now I am dead inside. I’m afraid to go to sleep at night because of the nightmares and ashamed I made it home.”

Unexpected News – Flash Fiction

January 11, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about wet ink. It can be artistic, writerly or something completely off-the-wall. Go where the prompt leads.  https://carrotranch.com/2018/01/12/january-11-flash-fiction-challenge/

My offering follows:

With great excitement and anticipation I opened my son’s first letter since he had joined the Air Force. I expected personal news and an address. I got the opposite.

“I’m sure you don’t know, Dad told me to never come home again for enlisting without his blessing. I don’t think it’s safe to give you any contact information because he will force you to choose between him and me. I’m sorry.”

My sudden tears wet the ink. I realized any letters would have to be kept secret and I didn’t know if I would ever see my son again.

A New Puppy – Flash Fiction

“Is it time for a new dog?”

“No! Maybe. Sandy was such a good girl how can I replace her so soon?”

“Because a pet is a companion. Maybe a different color or breed.”

“Has to be a cocker spaniel, but another color is intriguing.”

I went to meet a litter that was almost ready at the breeders.

“The mom’s name is Fancy. She’s from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.”

“Looks like she got dyed in the copper mines there.”

“Yes. We named her daughter, Miss Revere, like the pans.”

“I could call her Revi; sounds more doggish. Consider her sold.” Continue reading “A New Puppy – Flash Fiction”

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