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Worthing Flash welcomes flash fiction from outside Worthing

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The aim of this blog is to encourage flash fiction in Worthing. However, it would be churlish to turn aside anyone from outside Worthing who wants to contribute so that is not going to happen. Just send your flash fiction (under 1000 words - sometimes as little as 75 words) to worthingflash@gmail.com Writers of the World unite! Now read the stories. 

The Footprints

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      As always, it’s between the haves and the have-nots.   The haves are happily expanding, covering more and more places on earth. Always boasting and inflating what they have. Much more than they need and much more than they can feed. They create endlessly, consume endlessly, wonder about each other incessantly, and fret about small things constantly. Their day begins with smiles and good mornings, and ends with drool-worthy meals. They wear stunning clothes, and they take exotic vacations.   They leave their footprints in the bytes of cloud. In needless exabytes.   A day will come when only a handful will not have any digital footprints. Mostly by choice. by Dr Meghashri Dalvi     

Ovid For Covid Number 5

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First one, then another, until a small pile has been made in the middle of the garden. He thinks of his mother as a fallen leaf. And all the others in the home, they are fallen leaves too. The dry husks ignite quickly and the smoke lifts with ease, up and over the trees. The fire is soon finished and all that is left is a dark, smouldering circle on the ground. The conflagration has brought his hurt some comfort but he can’t think how or why.   With painful inquisitiveness, he collects a bundle of twigs and lights them too. As the flames crackle and sputter, he is startled by the imagined presence of a spirit, freeing itself from the confines of earthly bondage, the imprisonment by matter. But what spirit? His sparked curiosity leads him to the shed. He drags the potting bench out, douses it with petroleum and sets it alight. Again, as the many fiery tongues angrily attack the chilled air, he feels the now unimagined spirit rising higher, not beside him, but from within. By t

HMV

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I knew he was unwell.  It began when he never wanted to go very far on our walks together. In fact he got to sitting on the park bench with our next door neighbour and I would run round the cricket pitch with her Jan.  We were told to always keep to the perimeter and not to soil the grass or wellieWally the grounds man would chase us off.  ‘ Her next door’ was a pleasant over-weight chatty widow who I know he liked and do you know what, I quite liked Jan.  “ I want you to stay next door with Jan for a few days next week while I go into hospital”. I must have looked at him in alarm because he quickly added “you like Jan, don’t you Sidney?” He obviously didn’t seem to understand my alarm, it would be the first time we would be apart. Ever.  Hospital was that smart building we walk past on the way to the park, it had electric sliding doors that Jan told me could suddenly close and cut off the head of someone as small as me.  We said our farewells at the fearsome sliding do

The Legend of Loof Lirpa

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  In 1793 the health ministry of Norway was tasked with measuring the feet of all the citizens. The runaway winner of the contest was a little-known man called Loof Lirpa. His picture, alongside a picture of his feet with a normal-sized pair of feet for comparison, appeared in the newspapers of the day, there were two. The King awarded Loof a thousand Kroner which could be expected to keep him in comfort for the rest of his days. In those days there were no shoe sizes so Loof had to have his shoes specially made. Fortunately his father came from a long line of cobblers. Loof decided to set out exploring. The first country he discovered was Denmark. Norwegians had heard of Denmark but hitherto they had thought of it as a mythic land inhabited by giants. Danes are similar in size to Norwegians and in fact Loof, with his prodigious feet, was regarded as a giant by them. He was introduced to the King who told him of another land which the Danes greatly feared. In modern times it

Guttering

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 I think we've reached the end of our friendship. I'm not sure that we will agree about who has been the better ex friend, but up for consideration are the following. That unfortunate business in 1987, when your first wife left you for her lesbian lover, and you drank whole bottles of whisky and slept out under hedgerows.  I was very understanding about that. You had plenty of support. Then the cat got run over and the wife was still playing away and you phoned me one morning when I was getting the kids ready for school and I had to overdose them on chocolate buttons to help you out. Plenty of back-up there as I recall. Things were rather quiet until the year 2001, when you wrote that mysterious letter from hospital, saying that you were there because others had deemed you  a danger to yourself, and please could I help again. Naturally, I helped lavishly. I think we should draw a discreet veil over that disgraceful tantrum you had in 2017, about the Bronze Age s

Going on a Trippin Trip

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Dear Diary, This is so embarrazzing. I don't know what I was thinking. Okay, that's not true. I do know what I was thinking. I wanted to get away from them. My parents. They're constantly bickering about petty shit and even now, when we're here in this perfectly picturesque place, they can't stop for five minutes. I tried to go to my room, shut them out but their voices are too loud and this Airbnb is too small. So I got into my dad's stash of weed brownies and ate a whole one. I thought it'd make me too high to pay attention. Boy was I wrong. Instead of floating me off to cloud nine like I'd seen it do in the movies, it just enhanced everything; sight, sound, hearing, fears, anxieties, insecurities...I felt like I was drowning in every thought I'd ever had. I had to get out. So I climbed out of the window and ran. Yeah I know, we're in the middle of a damned National Park, there are animals and shit, and I ran out into the wilderness at dusk.