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

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

Image

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

Image

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

Image

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.

Image

Image

 

© Erin Leary

Flash Friday Fiction

Image

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

Image