Flash Fiction Friday: Ghosts

Prompt: Ghosts

Word Count: 286

Kara wasn’t sure she believed in ghosts, until her favorite uncle, Robert, died.  He had been the person in her life to encourage her love of reading and the first person to tell her she should try to be a writer.  He gave her a copy of Frank Herbert’s Dune, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, and Octavia Butler’s Kindred.  Books are precious gifts, because it is not only words and paper that are given, but entire worlds.  And Kara dove into those worlds, head first, traveling and teleporting between them.  Returning to the books she loved now and then, to visit the old friends and old enemies she had made in their pages.

Though Uncle Robert had never written a book, Kara still felt his spirit in her library or at the bookstore.  A book would fall from the shelf, or remind her of something she had read before, given to her by Uncle Robert. After awhile it became so commonplace, that Kara was certain it was still him, giving her books from the great beyond.

It was not quite the same, she still longed to call him up and tell him how much she had enjoyed his selections.  Sure, she could say the words aloud, but it was not the same without his own opinions and thoughts being said back to her.

Eventually, Kara decided she would make Uncle Robert immortal.  As she crafted her first novel she wrote a familiar character into the pages.  Now, Uncle Robert could share his wisdom and heart with anyone who flipped through the pages of her book.  He could be the friend of many other budding writers and novelists, a kind ghost of the written word.

Flash fiction is short fiction, often under 500 words and often written in a short space of time.  If you would like to do your own piece of flash fiction, feel free to put it in the comments or link me to the place you post it.  I would love to see what you come up with for the prompt.

 

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Flash Fic Friday: Fear

Prompt: Fear

Word Count: 154

When Elena was 5 years old, she was terrified of Box Elder bugs.  She had mistaken the little orange and black bugs for fireflies, and a well-meaning friend in her kindergarten class had told her if she touched the little bugs, they would burn her little fingers off.  It wasn’t until years later that she found out that she had been horribly misinformed.

The little bugs were harmless, perhaps plentiful at times, but harmless all the same.  Years later, Elena realized that many of the fears in her life were like the Box Elder bug, as she let one wander over the palm of her hand.  Small, but made to be big.  Elements of falsehood wrapped up in truth.  But her biggest realization was this:

If she could hold a Box Elder bug in her hand and keep her fingers intact, she could face any other fear that life had to throw at her.

 

Flash fiction is short fiction, often under 500 words and often written in a short space of time.  If you would like to do your own piece of flash fiction, feel free to put it in the comments or link me to the place you post it.  I would love to see what you come up with for the prompt.

Flash Fiction Friday

So, I wanted to introduce a new recurring feature on my blog.  Each week, I’ll provide a prompt and a bit of flash fiction.  If you want to join in on the fun, please feel free to post your flash fiction in the comments or link me to it via the comments.

I’m a really big fan of quotes or music lyrics as prompts, so a lot of mine will be in that form.  For today, I chose:

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.”
-Dr. Seuss

And here is my flash fiction, based on the prompt:

The Answer
Jane tended to hold on to people that aren’t very good for here. It was as if she curated a collection of former friends like a crafter would a pinterest board. For the longest time, they were all there, images of them in her mind that tied in memories. The times they had lied, manipulated and cheated their way through their friendship, and of course the few moments that felt like they were real friends.

Jane held onto that collection a lot longer than she should have, worrying about how she could leave the pain behind. And sometimes she worried maybe she was broken, maybe if she would have just bent over backward a little more, given a little bit more, maybe she could have made things work.

It was a lie though, and somewhere deep down, she started to realize that.

That was when she started to wonder about moving on. How could she leave the past in the past? It felt like chains, holding her down.

That was the problem, though. The mind held on to things longer than the body did. It was easy to throw pictures in a trash bag, to delete texts and block emails. Jane found it a lot harder to let go of the good times, than the bad, but eventually realized the answer was simple.

Leaving them behind was as easy as looking forward. Stay in the present and the past is just the past.