Flash Fiction

Flash Fiction: Cliff Hangers

25 February 2016

Edition 1 Prompt – Cliffhangers: Leave Us Wanting More


 

Flashes
By Eliza Shallard

Clark Polker wasn’t finished.

His first steps were in his mother’s kitchen. He watched his son’s steps on that same floor. His stepfather taught him to read. He read at his dad’s funeral.

He was a poker player, a zealous singer, a runner of marathons. Clark didn’t take the slow lane. Clark was lively.

But that night none of this mattered. He didn’t hear his son’s voice or his mother’s laugh. Instead his wife’s scream echoed through his skull.

Clark didn’t even get the courtesy of seeing his life flash before his eyes. One moment he was here, the next –


 

Kafkacycle
By Jenny Van Veldhuisen

As soon as she woke, she had a hunch that something was off. She was an intuitive person, and the feeling made a lot of sense upon looking down and finding two little motorbikes where her arms once belonged.

They revved, the fumes tickling her nose. This was a far from ideal start to her Tuesday. She’d gone in for an ingrown toenail removal, so the motorbikes seemed unorthodox, though she was definitely not one to question a doctor.

She needed answers, but picking up her phone was impossible without thumbs. How was she going to collect Maddison from calisthenics?


 

Let it breathe
By Rose Kennedy

Charles didn’t know why he had come into the room that day. It had been a stressful day of filing, photographing and air­hockey and he’d just wanted

somewhere he could go to that didn’t have the strains of ‘Let It Be’ soaring through the air directly into his ears. He’d found the door to the room warm to the

touch, as if it was some kind of living, breathing entity. Entering, he heard, not “when I find myself in times of trouble”, but the faint movement of air. In and out.

The door snapped shut behind him as he screamed.


 

Hell0 from the other side
By Evelyn Parsonage

He exited without bravado. The finale was far from grand. A body slowly eased off the edge of the world.

The audience dissipated after the meds mopped up the leftovers.

She stayed. The accomplice.

Now,

He opens his eyes.

The room is fetid.

It smells like cat piss.

An old woman sits across from him. Her lips form a cheshire grin that teases him silently.

“Where…?”

The ring of a telephone stifles his bewildered babbling.

The woman reveals a cellphone and passes it to him.

He hesitates.

“Hello…is this…God?”

Putrid laughter emanates from the device.

“Oh honey! Not even close.”


 

The Birds and the Beers
By Simon Farley

“Want another?”

“Thanks, pal.”

A long sip. The bubbles sting the back of my throat. Wind catches flecks of spray and guides them to our faces. A long way down, the ocean heaves against the sandstone.

“I like coming here with you.”

I cease fiddling with the grass for a moment and look into your eyes.

“I like coming here with you too.”

You’re smiling. I’m smiling. And then, we’re kissing. And still smiling.

You pull away and look back out to the horizon. Overhead, an osprey soars.

“Oh no,” you say.

“‘Oh no’?”

You shake your head.

“Oh no.”


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