Flash Fiction Short Stories
All these stories are inspired by a picture. No more than 500 words, they must have a beginning, middle and end. No cliffhangers. Whether they are romantic, erotic or kinky – it depends on my muse. Click on links to read.
He kept the back of the van neat. Real tidy. His tools hung up or arranged in boxes. Everything where he wanted it to be. He swung the door shut and walked into the house.
“I’m back, honey,” he yelled.
“Hiya. I need a hammer,” she shouted from upstairs. “I’m hanging up a picture.”
He hesitated. Why not? It was just a hammer. “In the back of my van, honey.”
I usually crawled past his car around half eight in the morning, both of us as regular as clockwork, except he went one way, and I, the other. A familiar event that always took place along the same mile long stretch of road. Going by the shine on his car, I imagined his house was one of those by the park. His engine purred. Mine rattled.
It had to happen one day.
I’d had enough of it. Always playing that stereotype. It wasn’t the real me.
The bad attitude started on the day of my job interview.
I’m mortified. I try to wear an innocent expression, but it fails. I can’t begin to explain my actions over the past few weeks.
Dating two men at the same time—a big no-no. Dating brothers? A disaster in the making.
The only mistake I made on my wedding day was giving Betsy one of the rings Clive and I planned to exchange.
“Miss Malone, did you or did you not call your sweet cousin a beastly mare?”
She stared at his buttons, counting them in pairs. “Mr Lewis, I would not say such a thing.”
He reached over and flicked his finger at her panties. “Take them off. Leave everything else. I want the suspenders to stay on.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, babe, really. I know you said you not to touch, but do you have to spank me?”
“Over my knee,” he rebutted sternly.