#FridayFlash: Who Are You?

Of Course it had to be raining. It was so cold. The icy rain wasn’t helping. It pelted on my jacket and ran down my selves. Smoke was coming out of the street in different places. I don’t know why. What is under there that makes smoke come from the street. I feel like the street is going to blow up at any second. It hasn’t yet so I guess it’s okay. This big burly guy with a stained now yellow wife beater on, a yellow button down shirt and a down coat ushered me into the centers van. At least it wasn’t raining in here. I looked behind me and saw one other guy sitting down with his head against the window. I didn’t see his face because he had a black hoodie on. Mr. Burley slammed the door behind me and went to the drivers seat and started the van. The city passed outside the van in a blur. With the Van splashing through the streets and the rain coming down, it was hard to focus on anything. I noticed when the neighborhood changed. Neither the rain or the speed of the van could take the streets away. First came the abandoned buildings, the poor buildings with lights on and people mulling around. Then came the neighborhood where half the buildings were nice and half weren’t. Now came the expensive neighborhoods. The streets were clean, no one was outside, even in the dark I could see they had flowers on the bottom of their windows. It must be real expensive to get flowers on your windows. Looking...

Flash Fiction: The Mailbox

The death march to bataan otherwise known as the walk to my mailbox. It stares at me when I leave in the morning and when I return at night. I try to put it off for as long as I can but after a week, I get home and envelopes are sticking out every which way. Today I decide to wait until I get home. There’s enough fear and loathing in that God forsaken grey world of XXXX customer service department. Sorry, I’d probably get sued mentioning their name. “You better watch your ass Bob, this economy is bad and you don’t want to lose your job for being late do you?” Simon my “supervisor” then laughed heartily and slapped me on my back with his red, plumb, damp hands. I think I was about three and a half minutes late and that was because some idiot decided to run into a brick wall embankment and held me up over 2 hours in Atlanta traffic. I hope his head fell off. I usually leave the house hoping for only an hour traffic and I go have breakfast, relax before I have to deal with those “wonderful” customers. But here I am giving the evil eye to the unassuming wood and metal object. The wife’s home with little Will, my pride and joy. I think they are inside watching the sprout channel or something along those lines. I really don’t know anymore. All I do is sit up at night wondering how much longer we have here. I swallow the bile that had started to rise up in my throat,...

#fridayflash Building Blocks

A knock sounded at the door. “Thomas?…Are you okay in there?” It had been over forty five minutes since Thomas locked himself in the hall bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute Mom.” The ever caring Judith, thought Thomas. Always worrying about her baby boy. Although he was twenty eight, Judith never missed a chance to let Thomas know how much she loved him and how much he means to her. Every second he thought about what he was about to do, made his stomach tighten and his head spin. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and started to feel the pink walls closing in on him. Immediately, he turned on the faucet and flashed a handful of ice cold water on his face. Thomas knew a panic attack was coming, and he needed to stop it before he lost his nerve. He sat on the side of the tub and started to arm himself. The self discipline he gained when he succeeded in losing the sixty three pounds he put on after high school, he placed in his right back pocket to push him along. One step at a time. The courage he learned he possessed after he fought with his best friend against three bear sized bullies in 10th grade instead of running and hiding, he placed in his right front pocket. The loyalty he showed when he didn’t go away to college like all of his friends, but stayed at home, and found a job to help support his family because they needed it, he placed in his left back pocket. The honor he...

Flash Fiction: 8 Minutes

It’s too hot to play outside, thought Anna as she sat on the ground in the backyard of her house. Her Grandmother was busy hanging just washed clothes to dry on the line that went all the way from the house to a tree about 30 feet away. 8 year old Anna bent down to watch an army of Ants scurry out of a ant hole the size of a golf ball. After losing herself in the order and civility of the march of the ants, Anna sprang up and started walking to the edge of the yard. “Nana, I’m going over to play with Sammy OK?” It was a question and a statement at the same time. “Be Careful, If no one is there come right back, Yuh hear?” Also said as a question and a statement. It occurred to Anna that Nana did not say, “tell Mrs. Johnson I said howdy,” no “call to Mrs. Johnson for me and tell her I’ll talk to her soon”. No, hello messages. At least Nana let her go and didn’t try to stop her, Anna thought. No one in the neighborhood liked Mrs. Johnson. Anna didn’t know why, but she also didn’t concern herself with those small details either. “Yes Nana” Anna said as she made her way through the overgrown dirt path that led to her neighbors house. The path wasn’t used much so Anna had to carefully trudge through the overgrown grass and trees that blocked her way. Her matching yellow tank top and short shorts kept snagging on the branches and trees as she made her way....