Flash Fiction: Bedraggled Cat


Bedraggled Cat

Wilson the black cat squeezed through a tight gap in the fence to arrive at an unfamiliar house. He sniffed the grassy backyard. There didn’t appear to be any sign of domestic animal life. Birds and hedgehogs sure, but no other cats, and thankfully no dogs. Wilson jumped into the open sill and squeezed through yet another gap.

There was a reason Wilson could make it through these impossibly tight openings. Yes, he was a cat–it was one of his natural abilities–but his frail frame helped out here too. Most other cats wouldn’t make it through what with the extravagant meals their owners fed them. Wilson was a bedraggled, homeless cat of skin and bone. It had always been this way. Born a kitten and abandoned under a house Wilson had to fend for himself. He was lucky he was so cunning. The rest of his brothers and sisters passed away. Sadly Wilson couldn’t take care of them all. He only had enough cunning to look after himself, and times were getting harder. His one dumpster dive behind the restaurant was a no go since it’s closure. Women’s fashion doesn’t have quite the same taste.

So here was Wilson exploring beyond his normal boundary. It took a while to find an open home. So many people were security conscious these days. Wilson jumped down onto the toilet seat making certain not to fall in. It had happened before and it was not easy getting out. Wilson sniffed the air and found his way towards the kitchen. There it lay on the counter, a great big chicken defrosting on a platter. Light streamed in through the window lighting up the meat like a sign from the gods. Wilson licked his chops.

Before he could climb the counter a hand scooped him off his feet, and Wilson felt the life squeeze out of him. Wilson hissed and tried to struggle. This was it. Death had finally caught up to him. The hands turned Wilson around. He saw a large face. A human face. A face in bangs and bright blue bows. She smiled a giant smile and put Wilson down. He almost made a run for it when the unexpected happened. The girl placed the defrosting chicken on the kitchen floor. Wilson sniffed at it suspiciously. Was this some kind of trap? But the girl stood back and let Wilson nibble at the flesh. He gobbled it down furiously. Perhaps Wilson wouldn’t die today after all.


First drafted over on Typetrigger.

Flash Fiction: Chin Up

First drafted over on Typetrigger.


Chin Up

“Chin up mate,” Hank said as he patted my leg.

I suppose it was meant to be reassuring, but it only made me uncomfortable. If I wasn’t so miserable I think I would tell him to leave. It didn’t help that I was still in yesterday’s clothes and smelling like a cauldron of assorted stenches. I scratched at my chin to feel prickly hair–something I would have shaved off days ago if I gave a damn, if we were still together.

“Just know that we’re here for you buddy,” Hank said.

God, why does every trite expression he use make me want to throw a cushion at his big stupid face?
I shouldn’t say that. Hank’s a good guy. I’ve had phone calls and Facebook messages but Hank was the only one to show up in person, on my doorstep with a case of frozen dinners. I wish it was a case of beer so I could drink myself into a semblance of a good mood.

“You are eating?” Hank asked, looking at my frail figure.

I pointed to the empty Doritos packets on the floor.

“I thought as much. That’s why I brought you these dinners. Just chuck ’em in the freezer and come dinner time throw one in the microwave. Easy peasy,” Hank said. “Y’know what, I’ll put ’em in for you.”

Hank picked up the case of frozen delights and headed for my kitchen. He came back and stood in front of the couch. I didn’t get up. I think my body forgot how.

“Hope to see you back at work soon mate. Not sure how long I can keep covering for you,” Hank said.

I raised a limp hand and dropped it to my lap. That was me saying goodbye. Hank left me to my dark dungeon of despair. I looked over to the coffee table where my empty fish tank sat in the dark–the castle and treasure chest devoid of life.

Mister Gup Gup, it wasn’t your time.


Flash Fiction: Mismatch

Inspired by the prompt on Typetrigger.




We were a couple on opposite sides of the spectrum. Linda was adventurous and daring, always after that next big thrill. Last year it was the snowboarding craze. This year it was archery. I tagged along of course, as any good boyfriend should. I tried my best to enjoy these activities, but it just wouldn’t take. She would just tease me, “Oh Simon, stop being such a grumpy moose.”

How I hated being called a grumpy moose.

So one day I sat her down and looked her straight in those pretty blue eyes. I had semi-practiced a speech in front of the mirror a few hours prior. One could not go into these things blind you know.

“Darling, you know I love you.”

She nodded.

“I come with you to your outdoor pursuits.”
“You drag your feet,” she interjected.
“Yes, well there is good reason for that. I’m just not that kinda guy.”
“So what are you saying. You want to break up?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. Listen, here’s a plan I concocted.”

I pulled out a printed sheet covered in monthly timetables. “You know my friend Matty?” I asked.

“Yes… Where is this going Simon?”
“Well you see, I thought it would be a good idea, him being into these sorts of pursuits, a real outdoorsy guy you know, that he for the duration of these activities take my place as a sort of stand in.”
“You want to split boyfriend duties?”

I pointed at the tables. “Now you just pick the date you next want to do archery or what have you, and I’ll arrange with Matty to go with you. And when you get back I’ll be here waiting for you, ready for our movie marathons.”

Linda paused. “About those movie marathons…”

Flash Fiction: Piñata

Inspired by the prompt on Typetrigger.



“It’s your turn Simon,” said little Bethany, handing over the wooden baseball bat.
Simon took the bat and targeted the swaying object hanging from the tree.
“Hey, no cheating. You gotta be blindfolded first,” cried Bethany.
“I’m just practicing sheesh.”
“Well don’t.”
Bethany walked up behind Simon and reached up to pull a blindfold over his eyes. She tightened the ends with a simple granny knot.
“Can you see anything?” she asked.
“Nope. It’s pretty black in here,” said Simon.
“You better not be lying. Right I’m going to spin you now.”
Bethany placed her hands on Simon’s shoulders and urged him to turn.
“One… two.. three… four… five…” Bethany ran backwards out of the way. “Now hit!”
Simon swung at the dangling object nearly losing his balance. It connected with a thud. He took off his blindfold to admire the damage.
“What? Nothing happened,” he turned to Bethany. “Where’s the candy?”
“You gotta keep hitting,” she insisted.
Simon gripped the bat and swung again.
“Hey, not yet eager beaver. It’s my turn,” said Bethany. “Plus you’re not wearing the blindfold.”
Simon sighed and threw the bat at the ground. It bounced and rolled towards the tree. He marched away in a huff. Bethany went to pick it up. “Oh look, you got a bit of candy on the bat.”
Simon stopped in his tracks. Bethany scraped the bat with her index finger and procured a red glob. She licked her finger clean. “Eughh!” she spat. “What kind of candy is this?”
“Maybe we should try Felix from two doors down?” asked Simon. “He might have better candy.”
Simon and Bethany walked away from the tree and left the neighbours’ beloved tabby gently swaying in the breeze.

No animals were harmed in the making of this story.

Flash Fiction: Spin Cycle

First drafted on Typetrigger.


Laundromat Photo


Those dark grey eyes glared at me. He was nothing but a wispy mustache drooped over thin lips. “So, what’s your next move?”
I gripped the woman tighter, pulled her to cover my person.
The cop lowered his gun and tucked it into his holster.
“Son, you don’t want to do anything stupid now,” he held out his hands and took a step forward.
I stepped back towards several washing machines in spin cycle.
She was in tears. “Let me go. Please..”
The barrel of my gun burrowed into her skull.
I spat at the floor. “You don’t know what I want.”
The cop pointed outside at his car. “You know more of my buddies are going to show up. And some of them ain’t as calm as myself. Let’s settle this now, make sure everyone walks away happy.” He smiled. “So what do you want?”
“I want her.”
“You know I can’t let you son.”
“I ain’t your son.”
“She clearly doesn’t want to go with you.”

“She’s MY girlfriend.”

“WAS your girlfriend,” Leah sobbed.
“Leah, you love me,” I said.
“You need to move on Neil.”
I pressed the gun in further. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

The cop took another step. I cocked the trigger and he stopped mid-stride.
“Not another step!” I shouted.

Hot tears fell down my cheeks. I wanted to wipe them away, but my hands were otherwise occupied. I buried my face into her auburn hair.

In a second I was on the floor, my pistol flung across the room. The mustache mere inches from my face. He pinned me down. I struggled, but he held me down good.
He turned to Leah. “Mam, I suggest you go now.”
Her hair a mess, she nodded and ran out of the laundromat.

With my hands held down I lifted my fingers trying to reach her.

“It’s over kid,” the mustache wobbled. “She’s MINE now.”