My flash fiction

lightning-bolt-free-lightning-clipart-public-domain-lightning-clip-art-imagesIn 2015, writers in one of my critique groups decided to try our hands at flash fiction, which is defined as very short fiction. How short isn’t clear. Some say up to 1,000 words, others say 500 at most. My goal was to tell a story — or in this case retell a story — in 100 words.

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“You did sod all while the thieves hauled off our best milk cow,” my old man shouted.

He lunged toward me.

I ducked.  “I told you. They carried daggers. They would’ve slit my throat.”

“Better they had, Jack,” he mumbled.

After dark I slipped out the front door, dug a trough on one side of our hut and filled it with water from the stream. I pulled the beans from my pocket, laid them in the trough, covered them with dirt, and patted it down.

“Grow, you feckers.”

I kept watch until dawn, when the first sprout appeared.

Magic.

©Ann Oxrieder 2015

 

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About stillalife

I retired June 30, 2010 after working for 40 years in the field of education and most recently doing school public relations/community outreach in a mid-size urban school district. I wrote for superintendents and school board members. Now I'm writing for me and I hope for you. In this blog, I offer my own views coupled with the latest research on how to preserve our physical and mental health as we age, delve into issues most of us over 50 can relate to like noticing wrinkles and forgetting where we left our keys, discuss the pros and cons of different ways to engage our minds and bodies after we leave the workplace, and throw in an occasional book review, all peppered with a touch of humor, irony, and just plain silliness.
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One Response to My flash fiction

  1. Shirley Shimada says:

    Jack’s a smart one!

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