Flash Fiction

Hope Grows in Beneficence

lillian18 Comments

Violet was born after a spring storm. She emerged from between the rainbow’s green and blue arcs. I am a centenarian angel, called to witness her birth. I’d been handmaiden to Death through all my years, grief skewing my existence. I was granted this new assignment, my aging wish. To assist non-humans within a species immersed in flights of fancy and joy.

I nudged Violet’s tiny fairy wings, guiding her through the sun’s rays toward the Land of Beneficence. Here she would learn to interact with the young offspring of humans when she journeyed to their earth. To spark their imaginations before ideas of difference and negativity took root. The hope of humankind lies within Violet and all her pixie kin, born every time a rainbow appears. My task, your very livelihood, is within the rainbow. Everything I do is stitched with its color.

Written for Prosery Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.

Today we are to include the line “Everything I do is stitched with its color” in a piece of flash fiction, composed of 144 words, sans title. The required line is from a poem written by William Stanley Merwin, 17th Poet Laureate of the United States.

Image from Pixabay.com

What’s Your Dream?

lillian23 Comments

She dreamed of becoming a famous poet. On her eighteenth birthday, she outgrew the foster-care system. She walked out of old man Henrys’ flat for the last time, carrying her journals, writing supplies, toothbrush, two pair of socks and underpants, two flannel shirts, and twenty dollars, all stuffed in her backpack.

In Central Park, she sat down and began writing about what she saw. Children playing tag; people jogging; women pushing baby buggies. As the sun set, she lay down on the bench, looking up. Just to get a different perspective. Everything was upside down. She saw how in the street of the sky, night walks. Scattering poems in her head, the stars blinked telling her it would all be okay. She’d sleep now. In the morning she’d stop in Starbucks and see if they’d hire a poet who could double as a barista.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.

Today Linda is hosting Prosery Monday where we’re given one line from a poem, and expected to insert that line, word for word, into a piece of prose that is 144 words or less, sans title. In essence, it’s the one time poets at dVerse write flash fiction! We may add punctuation to the line; but we may not insert into or delete any words out of the line.

The line Linda chose for us to use is ‘In the street of the sky, night walks. Scattering poems.” It comes from Tulips & Chimneys by E. E. Cummings and is the last line of  IX- Impressions.

Photo from Pixabay.com

Breaking Point

lillian27 Comments

That was it. She’d had it. Sliced away, leaving a scar on the ancient bark, the tree looked raw. Desecrated. His handiwork obliterated.

That night of infatuation, he carved a heart with their initials right there for all the town to see. “We’re forever entwined” he said. Except they weren’t. He left for college and never returned. It’d been years. She’d waited tables at the Oleander Café. Endured the town folk’s talk behind her back. Their whispers haunted her. They knew she’d carried his child for six months before the miscarriage. People pitied her.

She knew he was never coming back. She dropped the knife and walked out to meet the dusty road. She hailed the first bus she saw. Paid cash and finally got the hell out of there. No matter the bus’ destination, it was her turn to leave it all behind.

Written for dVerse where today Sarah is hosting our Prosery session. She asks us to include the line “she’d had it sliced away leaving a scar” from Michael Donaghy’s poem, Liverpool.

What is Prosery? A Prosery prompt gives a line from a poem and we are to include it in a piece of flash fiction of 144 words, sans title. The line must be word for word, although the punctuation may be changed.