Flash Friday Fiction

church_and_tree-claire-fullerPicture courtesy of Claire Fuller

A mason is someone who works with brick or stone, either building or repairing a structure.  To become a mason, one must first apprentice with a master, then practice as a journeyman, and finally, attain master status after many years.  Associated with this trade, the Freemason organization began in the early 14th century.  It evolved from a craftsman organization to a more philosophical orientation over the centuries.  An estimated 6 million people worldwide belong to the organization.

Word Count: 103

The Bricklayer

The old man scanned the tower, his eyes red-rimmed and rheumy.   He’d carried the knowledge of this secret for over 70 years.  A 14 year old apprentice then, he was trained by his master in the building of this church.  Watching the box get mortared into the wall, he knew it contained something powerful.

Today, that power drew him back.  The heat pulsed the air around him, a tangible beacon.  His master’s words gnawed at his diseased gut.  “The auld magic’s strong.  Thon box holds life itself.”

The climb beyond him now, he’d taken too long to return.  Their secret would die with him.

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

© Erin Leary

Flash Friday Fiction

 

copyright-roger-bultotCopyright Roger Bultot

Storms blow through and trees come down.  I live next to a small forest and some of the trees there bend mightily when the winds whip through.  I’ve listened in the night through the storm for the sound of a crack and wait, not for lightning, but the crash….

Word Count: 101

Like a Good Neighbor

It happened in a flash – lightning, crack, crash.  Brittle with age, the oak tree snapped at the base, smashing the parked car.

No magic genie appeared to write the insurance claim, no one showed up to claim the car at all.  A crew came to clean up the mess, towing the car away.

It took another few days before the neighbors noticed the smell.  The coroner figured she died the night of the storm, a heart attack.

“Wish I’d taken the time to get to know her – seemed like a nice woman.” Lost in a flash, another good neighbor gone forever.

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

© Erin Leary

Flash Friday Fiction

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Photo courtesy of Renee Heath

Steganography is the art and science of writing hidden messages in such a way that no one, apart from the sender and intended recipient, suspects the existence of the message, a form of security through obscurity. The word steganography is of Greek origin and means “concealed writing” from the Greek words steganos (στεγανός) meaning “covered or protected”, and graphei (γραφή) meaning “writing”.

The advantage of steganography is that messages do not attract attention to themselves. Where cryptography protects the contents of a message, steganography can be said to protect both messages and communicating parties.

Word Count: 99

In Plain Sight

As a kid, he dreamed of being an international spy – to be James Bond.  Now he dealt with casualties of terrorism at a local level.  His job was to try to predict the next attack.  Clues were hidden in plain sight, on bulletin boards, on shop signs, in classified ads. Interpreting these in time meant the next target might be spared.

Once identified, the clues were easy to see.  In fact, now he couldn’t miss them. Everything looked suspicious to him.

Looking at the bodies in the smoking rubble, he knew he’d never see the world the same again.

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

Flash Friday Fiction

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Picture courtesy of Randy Mazie

So many angles, so little time.  Here’s one I’m sure others may try…..

Word Count: 98

Once a Goat

– I miss you

– You miss me taking care of you

– No, really – I know I did you wrong, but baby, you were always it for me

– Now’s a great time to tell me all this.  Once a goat, always a goat.  That’s what my mama taught me.

– I should have been true to you.  I know I deserved it.

– I should have done worse.

– But, honey, now that you’re gone – do you think you’d consider changing me back?

– I don’t reckon I will.  No, sir.  I don’t reckon I will.

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

© Erin Leary

Flash Friday Fiction

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Picture courtesy of Managua Gunn

Just back from a visit to Washington DC with my daughter following her college graduation.  We stopped to see the WWII memorial.  My dad’s service was heavily on my mind when I saw this picture. As we were there, a veteran was being interviewed by a group of young students for a video journal and it got me to thinking.

Word Count: 101

The Old Guard

Hunched in his chair, he scanned the WWII Memorial. He was 17 when he joined up and shipped out to Pearl.  Memories unbidden flooded in.

One of the last standing, the ghosts of his brothers were thick in the air around him again.

Awareness of his singularity ached like a severed limb, the old guard now gone.  Lost in his reverie, remembering what they were fighting for so long ago, he slowly saluted.

These young ones may never know the sacrifices they made; he hoped they never would. 

Nodding his readiness, his son pushed him up the ramp to the van. 

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

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© Erin Leary

Flash Friday Fiction

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Picture courtesy of EL Appleby

Back after a month’s absence.  Where does the time go?

I’ve been working on a committee for a charity event for the past few months.  The event is this weekend; the story below was inspired by both the picture above and that experience. 

I also had a dog once that looked as though he’d been a collaborative design effort.  He was a good dog.

Word Count: 104

Designed by Committee

Their first meeting outlined the mission and charter for the product.  Successive meetings focused on process more than outcome.  Each championed their idea as the most important, most vital element in the design without regard for the big picture. 

When their product was unveiled to the market, it was met with surprise then horror.  Stepping back for the first time, they could see the fruits of their labor.  Blinded by hubris, they saw only the beauty of their vision.

– Best trunk!

– Great spots!

– Stripes rock!

– Better in Black and White!

God shook her head.  She knew better than to outsource.

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

© Erin Leary

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Flash Friday Fiction

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Picture courtesy of Claire Fuller

 I wasn’t going to write an entry this week – I’ve been sick with a cold, feeling overwhelmed with all that isn’t getting done at work and at home….you know the many reasons not to write.  I saw the photo on Wednesday and waited for inspiration to arrive.  This evening, as I decided to call it a night, I thought “what would I be looking for in a library like the one in the picture?” And it came to me.  I’d be seeking inspiration. And there was my muse, an old man in a grey sweater, waiting to help me out.

Word Count: 100

Something Lost

“Inspiration,” muttered the old man in the grey frayed sweater, “I know there’s a book on ‘Inspiration’ here somewhere.  Magical, it is, really.  Full of great ideas for writers with none.  That’s your problem, innit?”

I startled, not sure how he saw right through me.  I’d just walked into this old bookshop to get out of the rain.  I hadn’t expected to be analyzed.  But there it was.  I was sorely in need.

“Ah, found it!  Right where the last one of you lot left it.”  Blowing dust off the jacket, he handed the tome to me. 

Weekly crisis averted.

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

© Erin Leary

Flash Friday Fiction

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Photo courtesy of Janet Webb

Word Count: 100

Sweet Surrender

To the untrained eye, it was a honeycomb. The chambers, used by the honey bee to store amber sweetness, were merely a poor replica, made from paper.  Wasps, you see, once lived here, hatching their offspring.  Abandoned now, it is a hollow cast off, waiting for the river to carry it away.

I see all this at a glance, pondering the usefulness of this knowledge now; wrestling on a precipice of my own making.  One foot in the river, I let go, drawn into the channel like the paper wasp’s nest. Empty, alone, caving in on myself, spinning slowly downstream.

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

© Erin Leary

Flash Friday Fictioneers

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Back in the home town; looking for inspiration.  The story of Mystic brought a tear to my eye.  What a majestic animal; the bonds go deep.  This photo is courtesy of Doug MacIlroy; this story is also for him.

Word Count: 94

Enough

You brought me apples when I was hungry.  You heard my song and came to sing with me.  You listened.  You knew.

I’m happy in my new pasture.  A lovely young woman gives me lots of attention.  I am free here, fewer fences and more room to run with my new friends.  I like being free.

But at night, especially under a full moon, I strum our song and wait for you.  I imagine you there, listening, an apple in hand.

Not many words, always just enough. That was your gift.

I miss you.

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

© Erin Leary

Friday Flash Fiction

copyright-janet-webb

Photo courtesy of Janet Webb.

We are in the middle of a major kitchen remodel at our house.  This one made me think about taking on a new project.  Or rather, not. 

I’m heading to Moscow for a week – hope to post something next Friday.  We’ll see!

Word Count: 100

Dreamer

– What do you see in that old place – chimney’s caved in, for God’s sake!

Ah, you see the negative.  I see possibilities!  We’re in that doorway, welcoming our kids and grandchildren to our lovely cottage in the country.  The roof’s red, with whitewashed walls, window boxes full of flowers.  The grandkids love it – they play outside all day; we love it because it makes them want to visit us.

– All I see is a lot of work, and money flying out the door. Guess that’s why I married you – I love that you see the good in everything.  Even me.

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

© Erin Leary