Flash Fiction Friday 2024 – Week 47

Flash Fiction Friday continues in 2024. New pieces appear every Friday on my Patreon throughout the year. The minimum pledge to read them before anyone else is $3 per month. and the number of pieces available is tied to the monthly pledge total so the more you support my efforts, the more you’ll get to read. Find out what they’re all about and check out some excerpts from this week’s update in this post.

Admiring Melanie

Alicia had always admired Melanie from afar, her graceful movements and commanding presence leaving a lasting impression on the minds of those who roamed the office. Every day, she’d find herself caught in daydreams as she observed Melanie gliding through the hallways, her tailored suits hugging her figure just right, each step echoing with authority. But it was during those quiet moments when they shared the same elevator or exchanged quick glances at the water cooler that Alicia’s heart would flutter with an inexplicable longing. She had never developed feelings for another woman before, but there was always a first time for everything.
On one warm afternoon, the sun cast a golden hue over the office, and Alicia found herself alone in the break room, nursing a cup of herbal tea. The aroma of chamomile enveloped her senses, soothing her thoughts into a gentle haze. Just then, Melanie entered, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Alicia felt an electric jolt at the sight of her supervisor’s polished shoes that seemed to be crafted from a fine leather that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. Alicia’s heart raced as she glanced up, meeting Melanie’s striking gaze for a brief heartbeat.
“Mind if I join you?” Melanie asked, her voice smooth and inviting, pulling Alicia from her reverie. It was a simple question, and yet so monumental. Alicia nodded, unable to form actual words as she gestured toward the small table in the corner.
Melanie settled into the seat across from her, her presence filling the room with a intoxicating confidence. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you’ve been handling the new project,” she said, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her coffee with effortless grace.

(…)

Grotesque

Gregory stumbled through the twisted, gnarled forest, each step sending sharp jolts of pain through his blistered feet. The once soft earth had turned into a treacherous carpet of jagged stones and twisted roots that clawed at his skin. With each movement, the blisters on his hands and arms rubbed against the rough fabric of his tattered shirt, bursting open in a slick explosion of pale fluid that ran down his forearms like rivulets of rancid milk.
He could feel the weight of the warts multiplying along his fingers and knuckles, grotesque little growths that pulsed with a life of their own, darkening to an angry shade as they spread like weeds through an overgrown garden. They were a cruel mockery of flesh, jarring against the smooth contours of his skin that had once been so unblemished. Each wart was a testament to the horrors he had endured, an ugly souvenir from this hellish journey.
“Please make it stop!” he screamed. “I’ll do anything you want but make it go away.”
The shadows thickened around him, swallowing his desperate cries as a low, mocking laughter echoed between the ancient trees, their twisted branches silhouetted against a pallid moon. Out from the veil of darkness, she emerged – a figure draped in tattered rags that whispered spells from bygone eras. Her silver hair cascaded over hunched shoulders adorned with beads of bone and feathers.
“Ahh, the petty thief,” she crooned, her voice a syrupy blend of malice and amusement.

(…)

Not Bored Anymore

Jonathan was bored. The clock on the wall ticked mockingly, each second an echo of his solitude reverberating in the empty rooms of his apartment. He wandered from the living room to the kitchen, trying to summon a flicker of inspiration from the mundane surroundings. The beige walls seemed to close in on him, and the stark brightness of the overhead light was oppressive, like it was highlighting his state of monotony.
He opened the refrigerator door and peered inside, hoping for a miracle, perhaps a half-eaten slice of pizza or a forgotten takeout container filled with something delicious. Instead, he found only a sad assortment of expired condiments and a lonely tub of cottage cheese that glared back at him as if mocking his culinary aspirations. He slammed the door shut, frustration bubbling up like vinegar in a shaken bottle.
The television sat silent in the corner, its screen dark, an uninviting abyss that promised nothing but reruns of shows he had seen too many times or silly horror movies with next to no plot and far too much gore for his sensitive eyes. God, what a pathetic existence!
He let out a heavy sigh, flopping back onto his worn-out couch, which sagged under the weight of his despair. The fabric was scratchy against his skin, a reminder of everything that was wrong with this evening. A half-eaten bag of potato chips lay abandoned beside him; they had lost their allure hours ago.

(…)

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