Category Archives: Flash Fiction

Victoria, Your Twenty Minutes Start…NOW!!!

The impetus this month? A variety of objects laid out on the table – gold pen, red address book, pink lipstick, ear phones, mobile phone, car keys. Write about the person who owns the objects, or pick one item to write about.

 

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From where I knelt, I could see a child’s view of the home of my girlhood.

Time had passed so quickly. The crack in the wall made me smile. Mum had been so cross. It had been Erika’s fault of course. She started it. I burst out laughing, although sudden tears trickled down my cheeks.

My mother, my sister, and soon, my home. All gone.

My father? I frowned and swiped at my cheeks. Tomorrow, I’d clean and pack and throw away my childhood. But today…

Half closing my eyes, I became the little, freckled-face girl I’d once been.

“I’ll count to one thousand by fives!”

So I raced through the lounge room and ran, full pelt, into the bookcase. Books fell everywhere. Hurriedly, I reached out to replace them, or Mum would be mad. My eyes caught sight of a small, old, cracked red leather book, hidden within the black covers of an old poetry book. My lips read out the title. The Golden Treasury.

I flicked through the small red covered book that had fallen out. Mum’s faded writing covered the flimsy pages. A name caught my eye. David Clivedon. And a long, long row of numbers.

My sister came thundering up the stairs. I shoved the red book back in its poetic home, straightened the books, and ran.

Today arrived again, my sister’s footsteps fading.

My heart beat hard as I reached once more into the bookcase, my fingers unerringly touching the old poetry book I’d replaced thirty years ago. And there was the address book. With shaking hands, I flipped through the pages. One page fell out and one slightly tore. But I came to the letter ‘C’.

David Clivedon.

Mum had never spoken about what had happened to my father. Her lips had always flattened, and her eyes had grown cold and frosty. Erika had said she remembered him. Sort of. He’d sounded funny, she’d said.

That large group of numbers, I knew now, was an overseas phone number. Trembling, breathless, I picked up the phone and dialled.

“Hello.” An old man’s voice. “This is David Clivedon speaking.”

So I’d rung America, or perhaps Canada.

Now my heart pounded. “This…this is Molly Smith. I used to be Molly Clivedon.”

Long silence, then a soft exhale of air. Relief? Pain? I heard them both, as my father whispered, “Oh, my God.”

 

 

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Oral Sex Workshop (or Victoria, Your Twenty Minutes Start NOW) – flash fiction

banana

Each of our Sultry Scribes writers closed her eyes, opened a magazine, and pointed to her topic. Mine? Oral Sex Lessons! Here it is:

 
Caitlyn poked out her tongue while she stood in front of the mirror. How far should it stick out?

Glancing back down at the magazine, she quickly skimmed the relevant paragraph. Mmm. It didn’t really say.

She squared her shoulders and stared at herself in the mirror. “Caitlyn,” she said sternly to the skinny young fair-haired freckled woman, “you are going to do this.”

Her reflection seemed to pale.

“Yes, you are,” she insisted firmly. “Darling. Naming no names.” Caitlyn rolled her eyes as she mimicked the throaty tones of her older sister’s best friend, Juliana. Then she ground her teeth together as she and her reflection glowered at each other.

Plopping back down on the bed, she snatched up the magazine, determined to get the hang of this oral sex thing. But the words blurred as she remembered last night.

As she reviewed the flow of the conversation, she stiffened. The…the…bitch. Juliana had brought up the topic herself, right at the start of the night. She’d toyed with the strawberry from her champagne, sliding it in and out of her mouth. Caitlyn snorted. Was that supposed to be seductive? It made her sick, all that spit sticking to the strawberry.

Caitlyn’s throat tightened, her bottom lip wobbled, and two tears trickled down her face. Hayden had stared, fascinated, at Juliana throughout the long excruciating evening. She’d leaned across the table, baring even more of her huge boobs, and had said with a knowing wink, “Darling, some people, naming no names, are quite talented in that direction.”

There was a knock at the door. Damn. Hayden. She’d only got to the tongue loosening exercise.

Quickly wiping her face, she raced to the door, dropping the magazine, still in her hands, onto the dining room table. Hayden stood in the doorway with a bunch of roses, grinning. Before she could say a word, he swept her up in a big bear hug, then carried her inside. “Sweetheart, it’s so good to see you.” He lowered his curly head far down to hers and kissed her. His trademark, yummy, sigh-worthy, soft, gentle kiss. As he drew away, he laughed, as he always did, at her sigh. “What about that Juliana last night? Dahling,” he said, his voice a low, throaty growl, “Some people are quite talented in that direction.” His blue eyes twinkled as he chuckled. “God, I laughed all the way home.”

“You…you weren’t…um…interested in that whole…um…oral sex thing?” Caitlyn said, licking her dry lips.

His eyes fell to the magazine article on the table. Its huge headlines seemed to have transplanted themselves across her heated forehead.

ORAL SEX WORKSHOP —BLOW BY BLOW TIPS.

“Baby,” he said softly, “we’ll get to that one day, but for now, let’s go out to dinner. We can take things as slowly as you like.”

As he went off in search of a vase, Caitlyn breathed out a whole lungful of air. She picked up the magazine and went to throw it into the rubbish bin.

But a sudden giggle tickled at her throat. The picture of the banana drew her eyes to the article’s first key point: How to Get Him To Go Down There More Often.

Maybe she wouldn’t throw the magazine away.

How to Deal With a Surprise Penis (Victoria, Your Twenty Minutes Start…Now!)

Our latest flash fiction didn’t involve everyone in Sultry Scribes writing about surprise penises. We had to pick a headline from a magazine to write about, and I liked that one.

 

 

How to Deal with a Surprise Penis 

 

“Oh! Isis it?” Tamara perched on the mattress, her feet tucked up near her bottom, her knees squashing her chest, and darted another glance at his…his…and tried to ignore the fluttering inside her tummy.

He seemed to make a sort of strangled sound.

Her eyes flew up. Oh goodness gracious, if she could just keep staring at his face, then everything would be alright. Hewhat did he say his name was? Michael?had such a kind face. Since she had to haveshe shuddered―a customer, she supposed she was lucky to have him. He had an easy grin, a few freckles sprinkled across his nose, and blue eyes that seemed to have a reassuring twinkle.

“Is it what?” His deep, gentle voice shook, but he tilted his head and gazed into her eyes, politely ignoringwell, the rest of her.

Oh my goodness! The bed creaked as he lay down on his back next to her, lazily stretching himself out. His eyebrow lifted in enquiry. And she wasn’t mistaken. There was that twinkle. But her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, for they drifted down the length of his long, lithe, naked body. He rested his head in his laced fingers. His biceps bulged.

She forced her gaze away and stared at her toes peeking out from the bottom of the sheet she’d hastily wrapped around herself. It doesn’t matter what this man looks like. Close your eyes and think of

But that picture of England’s green hills and valleys escaped her. Her eyes drifted again to that sprinkling of hair across his chest, then down to his defined abs, trim belly, and down to his

He reached for her hand. Reluctantly, she let her fingers release the sheet she clutched to her chest. It fell to her knees, revealing her far too voluptuous breasts. Her mouth dried as she saw his gaze move down to her chest. She was too big, wasn’t she? Guys liked pert, perky little boobs, didn’t they? Not huge ones, like hers.

He twined his fingers with hers and rested their hands on his chest. His eyessuch kind eyesflicked up to hers, waiting.

“Um” she replied, feeling her face heat to a point when she could fry eggs on it, “isis it supposed to haveyou know

He shook his head. Such a handsome head. Curly, tobacco brown hair, lovely sensual lips that should be kissing some lucky ladywhy on earth was he with her?were at the moment twitching at the corners. “No, I don’t know, Tamara. You’ll have to tell me. Is it supposed to have what?”

She stared down at the part of his anatomy currently under discussion and gulped. Long seconds passed. Still he waited. He seemed to be almostin pain? He was breathing hard. Goodness, she thought miserably, I’m so totally useless at this. Why were his lips sort of wobbling?

“Tamara?”

“Isis your penissupposed to have a bend in it?” she finally blurted.

He burst out laughing.

 

 

Victoria, Your Twenty Minutes Start…NOW!

Flash Fiction time at Sultry Scribes!

Our task? Close our eyes and pick two words from the dictionary. Three people, six words. Include three of those words in a story.

Our words were: defeat, nemesis, perk, contortionist, clutch, stodgy

And here’s my story:

It hovered like a sickening cloud, waiting, wanting to strike me down.

My nemesis smiled at me with mocking pity. She could see that cloud of my defeat. Smell it.  She’d been waiting a long time for this moment. Her pale blue eyes shone with malice.

My heart thudded in my chest. My stomach knotted. Only my pride kept me still.

Wiping my sweating hands down my sides, I took a deep breath. Then flung back my shoulders. The crowd hushed and waited.

With clenched fists, I faced her. I would not bow my head to this woman. She would not be my master.

And so, with a smile every bit as taunting as her own, I returned her venom. I enjoyed her frown.

Those who thought to judge me stared. Doubt flooded their faces. So it should. They were wrong.

They tried again. Their heads leaned in, touched, whispered, nodded. Then he stood, the main one. Fixed me with his steely grey eyes. My enemy shuffled closer, to be included in his gaze. Her eyes flicked to mine. Ah. Not so confidant now?

“The vote is unanimous,” he said. “My apologies, Mrs Perkins.” He smiled at me. “What you have given us is perfect, not stodgy in any way.”

The crowd drew in a collective breath. Her shoulders slumped.

“I declare your entry to be Best Cake of the Show.”

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