Friday Flash Fiction

Photo courtesy of Ted Strutz

Flash Fiction, week two. It took a while for inspiration to strike, but it did. Thanks, Ted!!

Word count: 100

Stairway to Heaven

“Mommy – look! angels!”

I looked around, used to trying to find obscure characters in the daily minutiae that was my life as a stay at home mom.

“Angels, honey? I don’t see any angels. You know, they have wings and halos…”

“ But look – they are going up the escalator to see God!”

“ Oh – so they are. I see them. But I think it might be a choir, sweetie. They are singers, not angels.”

“But mom, you’ve got to believe.”

Thinking about my current state of mind, I realized my son was not wrong. I looked again with new eyes, looking for the divine.

I’d take angels any day over handmaidens.

Copyright Erin Leary 2020

Friday Flash Fiction

Photo prompt courtesy of Dale Rogerson

A complete story, using only100 words. I am out of practice, but I want to start exercising my writing skills again.

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff -Fields for hosting this group! Looking forward to reading this week’s entries!

Word count: 99

Serenity Blues

High above the city, the world glimmered far below. This apartment seemed like a great place to heal, but now felt like a prison. Ice and snow only enhanced her isolation.

Sighing, she turned from the window and vowed that tomorrow, she’d venture out. Maybe she’d make a snowball and remember what it was like to be alive.

The sun would rise, the world would turn, and spring would return. Her memories would fade like bruises, the damaged places mending eventually, leaving open the possibility of renewal.

Closing her eyes, she uttered the familiar prayer “God grant me…”

– Erin Leary


Flash Friday Fiction

copyright Danny Bowman

Picture courtesy of Danny Bowman
Stark, wide, forlorn.  This is what you might call a blank canvas.  I wonder where my story will take me?

Word count: 100

Ashes to Ashes

Sitting together on the rock, they faced the hill they’d heard about forever.

“’Tis the most beautiful place on earth, Beenoskee.”

Sheila soaked her father’s stories in as a child.  Annie had less patience for his old country talk.

“Not nearly as tall as I’d imagined,” Sheila whispered, as though in church.

“He built everything up larger than life.” Annie fiddled with her hair, head down.

“He loved us, you know.”

“Yeah.  He knew fuck-all about parenting, though.”

“True.  But let’s do this one last favor.”

Sheila passed the bottle to Annie.  Toasting their pa, they let his ashes fly.

© Erin Leary

To see other Friday Fictioneers, please visit here.

Flash Friday Fiction

adamickes-childsbootsPhoto Courtesy of Adam Ickes

First impression on seeing this photo of the young child’s boots was “I’m outta here.”  It may have been my mood at the moment, but that’s the way this week’s story is going to go, too.  Outta here.
Word count: 100

I’m Outta Here

You can’t fence me in.  All your childproofing and safety latches don’t mean a thing to me.  I am Houdini reborn, a rebel in pull-ups. I can crawl, I can climb, I’m aiming to run soon.  I am your worst nightmare.

Stay young a while longer, little one.  The world can be a big, scary place.  You don’t need to rush it.  Let me protect you, love you, keep you. Don’t leave me just yet – stay close.

What do you know, old woman?  You’re afraid of your own shadow.  I’m not afraid of nothin’.  Give me my boots.  I’m outta here.

© Erin Leary

To see other Friday Fictioneers, please visit here.

Flash Friday Fiction


Photo Courtesy of Ted Strutz

I looked at this week’s picture and thought “Home!”  I know this boat – I grew up with ferry travel in my blood.  Here in the Puget Sound region, this method of travel is well loved and, at times, hated.  To me, it still means ‘adventure ahead’.  I will shortly become much more ferry-dependent, as we have purchased 10 acres of land on Whidbey Island, where we will be building a new home (see pictures below my story).  I look forward to becoming a ‘regular’ on the Mukilteo – Clinton run.

Word Count: 100

Into the Open

The boat moved relentlessly toward the dock on the other side of the sound.  This trip was usually for fun and adventure, the island destination a place for crabbing, boating, and freedom from routine.  Today’s trip was solemn, a funeral to attend.  Too many funerals lately. That time of life, I suppose.

Life seems more precious, like a jewel once lost that had been returned to safekeeping. Looking around, I see the sky coloring, the island nearing, everything moving me to the next moment, an inexorable pull like the moon on the tide.

Life will go on, into the open.

Please check out the links to all the other Flash Friday Fictioneers, which can be found here.

© Erin Leary


My new view…my writing desk will face this direction.


It already feels like home….

Flash Friday Fiction

Copyright Al ForbesPhoto Courtesy of Al Forbes

This guy has such a surprised look on his stone face, I couldn’t help but think maybe he landed in this spot unexpectedly. 

Word Count: 100

House Elf

I’m sick and tired of hanging around day in, day out.  If I never see another pigeon, it will be too soon.  And nobody ever thinks to wash my helmet anymore.  It’s a fright, between the guano and dust.

I never thought I’d be in this fix.  My mother warned me about being a smart ass – I should have listened. But no, I had to be the funny guy one time too often.  Look where it got me.

Note to self:  don’t piss off the resident wizard.  Or at least if you do, make your last expression a happy one.

Please check out the links to all the other Flash Friday Fictioneers, which can be found here.

© Erin Leary

Flash Friday Fiction


Photo Courtesy of Janet Webb

I head to the Bahamas on Saturday.  It is my first visit to the Caribbean, and I am looking forward to it.  I was reminded of the devastation of Hurricane Andrew in 1994 when I saw this week’s prompt, and ecided that would be my theme. 

I am attending my first ever Writer’s Retreat – and it came about somewhat indirectly through this forum.  I began to follow some of my fellow Friday Fictioneers on Twitter.  That led me to following Erin Niumata, who works for Folio Literary Management.  She tweeted about an online auction in support of Diabetes Research and I was the winning bidder on the package for the Salt Cay Writer’s Retreat.  Voilà!  Short story made long, I am thrilled to be attending and so anxious about it I might throw up.  Wish me luck – I will try to do next Friday’s prompt from Paradise Island!

Word Count: 100

Paradise Lost

It felt like the end of the world, really.  All that rain, but worse, the sound of the wind.  Andrew chewed through the islands with the ferocity of a wild animal, leaving wreckage in his wake. Some things destroyed, others left unscathed.  The randomness of survival, that was what struck him most.

In a world where life can change in a gust of the wind, how else to live but embrace the moment?  He stretched back in his rewoven hammock and soaked in the sun.  There was a lot to be said for island life.  Paradise found once more.

Please check out the links to all the other Flash Friday Fictioneers, which can be found here.

© Erin Leary

Flash Friday Fiction

one-tomorrowCopyright John Nixon

I know this man. He’s lived a rich life, now circumscribed to walking his errands around the neighborhood. He’s made friends in all the shops; stopping to ask about people’s lives, their families, their days. His bearing is dignified in his Navy veteran ball cap, his smile ready, his presence a part of their routine now.

Word Count: 100

A True Gentleman

– Where is he? He’s usually stopped in by now.
– Who’re you talking about?
– You know – our gentleman caller. He’s late. Where do you think he’s gotten to?
– Oh – didn’t you hear? I guess you were off yesterday.
– What? Did something happen?
– His daughter came in yesterday to pick up their groceries. He passed away on Sunday. I told her how much we enjoyed his visits every morning.
A tear etched its way down her cheek as she spoke. Neither of them said anything for a while.
– Such a kind man.
– A good life, that’s what he had.
– A good life.

Please check out the links to all the other Flash Friday Fictioneers, which can be found here.
© Erin Leary

Flash Friday Fiction


Photo courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

This week is a twofer.  I had an idea for a poem come to mind first, then the dialogue followed.  This shadow box reminded me of one my mother had.  I saw it as a dust collector, but after she died, I really wanted to ask her about why she’d collected each little thing.  What seemed trivial while she lived was suddenly a mystery once she was gone.  Ephemera, flotsam and jetsam, the trail left by our lives is easily erased.

Happy birthday to Rochelle – and thank you for your willingness to make this happen each week.  Friday is also my daughter’s birthday.  Happy #22 to you, dear Laurel!

Word Count: 93

Shadow Boxing


We are young but for a moment

childhood flashing by on hummingbird wings.

Treasures lined up in our mind,

safely stored in shadowy spaces.

Memories rich with meaning –

tucked away, glowing steadily,

beacons against the gathering dusk of our days.


                 – Mommy, why do you have a clown in your treasure box?

                 – Well, it reminds me of a fun day I had when I was about your age.

                 – Do you like clowns?

                 – I did then, Honey.  Clowns always made me laugh.

                – Like daddy does now?

                – Exactly – just like that.

               – That’s what I thought.

Please check out the links to all the other Flash Friday Fictioneers, which can be found here.

© Erin Leary

Flash Friday Fiction

Photo Courtesy of Lubyanka

Union Station, Washington DC – Photo Courtesy of Lubyanka

I passed through Union Station in DC last June on my way to meet with our state’s representatives and senators.  It is a monument to both change and endurance.  The activity level is steady, as passengers embark and disembark in droves – 40 million each year.  The building continues to serve as a hub of busy business into its second century.  It could be seen as the heart of our nation’s capital – or at least a part of the circulatory system!

Word Count: 102

Soldiering On

I rise from the basement where the Metro station is located, footsore and weary.  Like being born anew, I emerge from a narrow tunnel into the light, the heat, the frenzy that is DC in session.  Blinking, I adjust to this new world, steeling myself for action.

I carry with me facts and figures, details to persuade, cajole, and encourage my legislators to continue funding cancer research.  What they cannot see are the hearts I carry with me.  Father, mother, sister – I am their standard bearer, their voice, advocating for those who can no longer speak.

Time to soldier on.

Please check out the links to all the other Flash Friday Fictioneers, which can be found here.

© Erin Leary