A Flash Fiction by Kristena Mears Moist droplets flowed down my cheeks as I sat on the edge of my bed. My best friend stood quietly next to me not knowing how to comfort or stop the endless tears. “Why does he leave me like this?” “You shouldn’t work yourself up in this way. It’s… Read More Friday Fiction – Desertion
The pungent aroma of fresh coffee drifted through my dreams and nudged me awake. Willing myself to keep dreaming, I ignored the hot cup I knew my husband had set on the bedside table. I didn’t want to get up. I wasn’t sure why. I just knew I didn’t. I was having one of those amazing… Read More Friday Fiction – The Smell of Hot Coffee… Read More Friday Fiction – The Smell of Hot Coffee
1945 was a great year to be an eight-year-old boy in rural Indiana. School had just let out and my big bro was headin’ home. Tommy and Mag’s families weren’t as lucky as ours. The war had snatched their brothers. I felt plum sorry for them… but maybe not as sorry as I shoulda. Momma had… Read More Friday Fiction – It’s Just Not Right – Flash Fiction… Read More Friday Fiction – It’s Just Not Right – Flash Fiction
Meg ran her hand over the smooth oak veneer. Her fingers caressed the intricate woodwork as she knelt down in front of the wood chest. Flattening her hand, she pushed her fingers between the ornately scalloped wood and the faded gray of what used to be multi-colored Nichol’s rug. Wiggling her fingers, she willed them to find the… Read More Friday Fiction – The Old Chest – Flash Fiction… Read More Friday Fiction – The Old Chest – Flash Fiction
There was a time when it hadn’t meant so much to me. Even then it had been important. But now, now it was the only thing on my mind. I had searched the whole house, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I know I was wearing it yesterday. I know it! I never… Read More The Necklace – A Flash Fiction… Read More The Necklace – A Flash Fiction
“Hello?” “Hi Mother, How ar…” “Oh, it’s you.” “Sigh… Yes, Mother, it’s me. You don’t need to sound so disappointed.” “Well, I’m busy. Here, let me put you on speakerphone.” “I thought you hated the speakerphone. What are you doing?” “I’m painting if you must know.” “I didn’t know you painted. When did you start painting?”… Read More The Apple – Flash Fiction… Read More The Apple – Flash Fiction