Tag: Flash fiction for aspiring writers

Short Stories

Mixed Blessings…

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She stared at the stairs and in her mind’s eye, she saw it as it was back then; hidden in the quiet corner of the park and surrounded by thick foliage. Leaning on her cane for support, in a slow, emotion-laden voice, Alice told her son a secret she had harboured for too long.

‘I’ve battled with myself whether to let you know or not, but with my diagnosis, I can’t put this off any longer.’

‘You’ve always wanted to know who your dad is and the truth is that I don’t know who he is.’

‘For many years, these stairs represented the stairs into a private hell.’ 

‘Thirty-two years ago, I was attacked here by two strangers and you were conceived that evening.’

‘Circumstances that led to your birth were difficult and changed my life, but once I held you in my arms, I couldn’t give you up for adoption.’

‘You’ve been such a blessing to me that a situation meant to destroy me was turned around.’

Jacqueline

Thank you, J.S. for the photo prompt and PJ for hosting.

Short Stories

Adrenaline Rush…

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As an adrenaline junkie, Ash was always in search of the next rush. He lived for daring feats and had literally done all sorts of daring stuff to the constant chagrin of his mother.

Diving off building tops was tame considering other adventures he had embarked on, but today was different. In response to the challenge of his long-standing competition Todd Kemp, it was a record-setting moment for his fastest free fall so far.

With safety harness all set up and onlookers gathered to cheer, he was about to step off the ledge, when the flash of his mothers repeated pleas echoed in his head.

She had warned him over the past several days not to engage in any dangerous attempts based on a recurring nightmare that she had, but he waved it off as one of her usual entreaties.

Shaking off the fleeting cold feet from hearing his mother’s voice in his head, he stepped off and tumbled down into a blackout. The last thing Ash remembered was the cacophony of voices and an insistent voice urgently cajoling him not to let go.

© Jacqueline

Thank you, Grant – Sud for the photo prompt and PJ for hosting.

Short Stories

Walk on the wild side…Flash Fiction

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‘Don’t move!’ Ted ordered in a low tone, but Rita couldn’t help the terrified squeak that escaped her mouth when she followed his pointed gaze and saw the mean looking snake flicking its forked tongue repeatedly, poised to attack at the slightest provocation.

Rita despised creepy crawlies with a passion and snakes topped her chart.

Kaboom! Ted’s aim blew the snakes head off and as its writhing body fell to the ground Rita threw up violently.

She knew that not only would she have creepy nightmares for weeks to come, but she will not be going on a hike in the wild anytime soon.

Thank you, Kecia for the photo prompt and PJ for hosting.

Short Stories

Therapy

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Emma’s relationship with water is best described as fearful fascination. It’s taken more than two decades to get her to accept to sit by the waters without having an anxiety attack.

The doctor feels that part of her therapy is to reconcile with what happened and Jack buttresses this opinion with frequent plans to visit the seaside and the suggestion that the children should learn how to swim well in water bigger than their bathtub.

Commonsense tells her that’s the right thing to do, but dread always sits in her stomach like a huge lump of rock.

She likes to watch the boats and the kids play happily in the sand. Occasionally she even dips her toes into the water.

If only she could get past the horror that tends to paralyze her mind – watching her twin sister Ella drown when they were seven years old is a memory that she doubts she would ever forget.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

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In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you, Louise, for the photo and Priceless Joy for hosting this challenge.

Short Stories

Unpredictable

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She hissed in annoyance and sighed in resignation. Not knowing if her irritation was due to her changed plans, the unpredictable weather, the weather channel or the summation of all three.

They just never seemed to get it right these days. Especially the new weather girl with the dry sense of humour, pout and too much makeup. She had said they would have a fair Spring day, yet here came sleet with ice nestling on the leaves.

With another sigh at her changed plans, Geeta put the kettle on for a spot of tea. She should have listened to her bones. Her tired bones could tell the neurotic weather better than all those fancy TV personalities, except maybe Harrison’s creaky bones.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

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In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you loniangraphics for our photo prompt and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform.

Fiction · Short Stories

The Other Dream…

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As the pile of freshly felled tree trunks grew, so did Theo’s stress grow. The cycle just never seemed to stop. He truly didn’t mind the work, not in the least, but it also didn’t hold much of his interest.

Though he found the art of turning the logs into different purposes satisfying, at the same time, he felt a deep dissatisfaction with his life. After high-school graduation, he had wanted to proceed to college and pursue his dreams of becoming a Civil Engineer, but that thought had simply upset his dad.

His great-grandpa down to his dad were woodcutters and he was expected to be satisfied carrying on with the family business of logging. It’s been three years since graduation, he wanted to bring up the conversation of going back to college again, but the time never seemed right – there were bank loans to repay and dad’s health had taken a poor turn.

With each passing day, the displeasure simply weighed him down. He knew that he was called to be more than a lumberjack which was what life currently offered him.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you, Loretta, for the photo and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform

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Short Stories

Bigger and Better…

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The fire raged with menace, its bright hot orange flames licked the timber with such nimble speed that in no time the house was razed to the ground.

The Darlington’s barely managed to escape the inferno with their lives and only their pyjamas on.

Thankfully, through their weeks of shock and coming to terms with their misfortune their wonderful neighbours rallied around them.

‘We are going to rebuild a bigger and better home Jo,’ Ziggy assured his wife and hugged her to his side as they stared while the workers cleared the charred remains of their former home.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Thank you, Yinglan for the photo prompt and Priceless Joy for providing this platform.

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Short Stories

The Last Wish…

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Clarisse held the silver urn close to her chest for several minutes, caressing it absentmindedly. Maybe it was her imagination, but the gentle wind grew stronger and the breeze teased her hair at the nape just the way Tim had loved to play with her hair. She felt the beautiful urn become warm in her hands, she felt his presence surround her and her eyes welled up with bittersweet tears.

This would be the final time she would hold him in her arms. She gently opened the jar and cast his ashes into the stream, watching as the gushing water carried away the remains of her love.

He had wanted to be free after being debilitated and confined for so long from an autoimmune disease. He had wanted this stream, his favourite spot on Earth to be his final resting place and she had fulfilled his last wish.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Thank you, Maria for the interesting photo prompt and my lady PJ, I appreciate this platform that you host.

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Short Stories

Labour Night…

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Ulumma put down her basket of cassava for the umpteenth time and gasped in pain, her steps slow down as the contractions grow more painful and closer with each passing second.

The sound of critters amplifies and in the stillness of the air, the buzzing crickets, croaking frogs, mosquitoes and staccato beat of a talking drum that floated in the night air from the village increase her anxiety, reminding her how far she is from home.

She tries to dampen her ripe imagination from straying to folklores and ghoulish tales of the dead who come to do their farming after hours, but the tree limbs look ominous, gnarly and ghostly in appearance as dusk quickly falls in ‘Ubi.’

‘It wouldn’t do to have this child in this Godforsaken place’ she mutters as she trudges along, her thoughts diverting in anger toward her husband who was probably enjoying a drink of palm wine while waiting for his pregnant wife to return from the farm and make him a fresh pot of soup and fufu.

Hissing and cursing in pain, she vows not to allow him to touch her for the longest time ever.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

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Thank you Yarnspinner for the interesting photo prompt and my lady PJ, I appreciate this platform that you host.

Quick Glossary

Ubi – An Igbo word for farm. 

Short Stories

The Chilling Interlude…

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The hungry look they had in their eyes for each other didn’t go unnoticed. The passion between Sir Edgar and Lucy Rushmore sizzled.
Everyone knew that they were sweet on each other and it was no surprise how Lucy stole unchaperoned opportunities to stay as close to Edgar as possible. As a matter of fact, there were whispers that an announcement of their engagement would be made that evening.

It was a perfect evening. The drawing room was filled with high society. The ladies looked divine in their evening gowns and the gentlemen, dapper in their bespoke tailored suits.

Fine wine, rich food, good music and lots of laughter floated around the room. Kara Synod’s acclaimed renditions in her rich Soprano had lots of eye’s wistful and received prolonged applauses.

The shocking news left everyone chilled to their bones. In the interlude of songs, dance, and laughter, Lucy was found in a dark powder room cold from death and two long pointed hairpins with the etchings of a black rose stuck in the base of her throat.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank Louise for the photo and lady PJ for this writing challenge platform.

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