The last story on the blog (Snooping, by Faye Keschner) is officially the 2,000th one that’s been posted. I’m more than a year behind on the stories from our website, but am determined to keep the content coming.
Though our activity on our original home of LinkedIn has really quieted down, the website is still thriving. Thanks for managing it, Gordon Lawrie. Be sure to head there for the latest updates, and I hope to update the blog more frequently in the days to come, too.
Cheers. Long live Friday Flash Fiction …
Russell (blog manager)
Ginny’s husband was always going on about their neighbour. “I’m sure Coco is running a brothel from her apartment,“ he theorised.
Men frequently buzzed for Coco and Drew would pace as he heard their mirth drift through their kitchen window. Ginny silently labelled him paranoid and a grumpy old geezer.
Admittedly, Coco was scantily dressed with an alluring voice. But a prostitute? Nah. Ginny dismissed the idea and focused on her marking.
A few days later, while Ginny was washing the dishes, she heard Coco clearly say to her male visitor, “You see, that wasn’t so bad was it?”
After three failed marriages and frequent breakdowns, Rebecca returns home to live with her aging mother. Rebecca has no means to support herself. This new living arrangement is fragile; the two women have never been in sync.
On the first night in her old bedroom, Rebecca glances upon something.
“Ma! How dare you!”
Her mother comes shuffling into the room. “What’s wrong now?”
“That picture. You know that I never got along with Sarah’s husband.”
“This is my home and this picture is history.”
The women tussle. Eventually the photo is relayed to the back of a dusty drawer.
Every afternoon except Sunday, Bobby would fold forty-seven newspapers in thirds, slip rubber bands around them, stuff them into his saddlebags, and set off on his bike.
He tossed papers onto the driveways of all his customers, except one: Mrs. Davis. She was old and lived alone. She insisted Bobby bring the paper to her front door. She was waiting and eager to chat. Bobby was in a hurry but he always took time to listen to whatever Mrs. Davis had to say.
Mrs. Davis wasn’t a big tipper. But when she died, she left Bobby a small fortune.
“We have to catch those mice. Our company will be here tonight, for heaven’s sake!”
“I know, I know. I’ve been trying to do just that, but no such luck.”
“How could you be so careless – waiting until the last minute?!”
“Don’t blame me. After all, you could have helped too, you know.”
“I was working all night – as usual.”
“Let’s not fight. We have to work together to get this done before our friends arrive.”
“Look at this! We finally caught some mice.”
“Whew, just enough. That’s one each for Fluffy, Whiskers, Tigger, and Kitty.”
“C’mon, Dad. Come with us shopping!” Jill encouraged.
“No, thanks,” Randy responded. “I don’t need anything.”
“Oh, it’ll be fun. And today’s the biggest shopping day of the year!”
Randy sighed. He did love his family. But the thought of braving the crowds on Black Friday? Taking a nap sounded much more appealing.
But how to decline his seven-year-old’s request without disappointing her? THIS was going to be tricky. Then, Randy smiled as he had an idea.
“Sorry, Jill. I’d love to, but this year’s Thanksgiving post-food coma has knocked Daddy back. I’ll be with you in spirit. Have fun!”
Happy New Year! I hope your 2019 is off to a good start, and that you’re ready for a new year of stories.
I’ve been busy over the holidays, and also had some changeovers in jobs. Sorry I haven’t updated the blog for so long. In the new year, though, I hope to make more frequent progress.
As always, please head over to (http://www.fridayflashfiction.com) for all the latest stories, and to contribute if the mood strikes you. Fellow Flash Fiction-er Gordon Lawrie does an amazing job with all the content there. Thanks, Gordon. You can also e-mail us at the blog, at (email@example.com), with questions or comments.
Thanks for reading, writing, and supporting Friday Flash Fiction.