Thursday, September 24, 2009

Flash Fiction - 6








A Taste of Snow
By Kathleen Kimball-Baker



Sasha could smell the smoke from a wood-burning stove ahead.
Her weary followers lowered their heads against the blizzard.
Far behind, the woman in a parka clung with one arm,
her eyelashes frozen shut.

Reaching the cabin, Sasha’s cries awakened the man inside.
He found her in a heap,
licking ice off her paws.

Image by paul+photos=moody
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To join the fun, write any story you like in 55 words (no more, no less).

Then tell Mr. Knowitall, aka G-Man by leaving a a comment
on his own Flash-55 post.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Try 5 - Flash Fiction




Shadows and Light
By Kathleen Kimball-Baker

The ‘copter hovered, blades flattening the tall prairie grass.
Jess crouched beside a boulder, blending into the rock’s shadow.

She held tight to the albino fox kit, cooing to it softly.
I won’t let them have you, no matter what.

Jamison shook his head.
“No, Professor King, I did not intentionally leave the lab unlocked.”


Image by Xanthia

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To join the fun, write any story you like in 55 words (no more, no less).

Then tell Mr. Knowitall, aka G-Man by leaving a a comment
on his own Flash-55 post.


Thursday, September 10, 2009

Try 4 - Flash Fiction



Little Linnie
by Kathleen Kimball-Baker


Only mice spoke to Little Linnie. No one else really understood.
She’d open throw her closet, muse on her choices, then select.
Today I will be Cinderella.

“Mr. and Mrs. Crawford,” the doctor said, “Belinda is, well, demented.”
Linnie’s parents cried.
“We may be able to help with drugs."
Linnie listened.
No! Leave her be.



Image by Sir John Everett Millais
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To join the fun, write any story you like in 55 words (no more, no less).
Then tell Mr. Knowitall, aka G-Man by leaving a a comment
on his own Flash-55 post.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Try 3 - Flash Fiction




The Good Son
by Kathleen Kimball-Baker


If walls could talk, Gibbs would certainly be sacked.

Not that he failed to execute his tasks with utmost discretion.

And he always tended to ailing Lord Mortimer’s needs with tact and haste.


But on certain evenings, when everyone had retired,

Gibbs polished knives, forks, and spoons -- 

silverware he traded to pay his mother’s debts.


Image by shaywill.com


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To join the fun, write any story you like in 55 words (no more, no less).
Then tell Mr. Knowitall, aka G-Man by leaving a a comment
on his own Flash-55 post.