Ingenu/e
magazine published this and even sent me a free copy. Ingenu/e is
sympathetic to #worthingflash and the magazine is a great place to
publish flash fiction in print.
“ You take forever to order just like with everything else, you haven’t changed at all have you?” A familiar voice with an unfamiliar face calls from behind. A long-lost friend welcomes unfamiliar emotions. We stare at each other in silence because I don't want to have small talk. I know her life ain’t easy, and at the same time, I still fall into the same small talk I desperately want to avoid. Cause just looking at her I know it’s not easy. Taking care of four kids by herself while working at Church's chicken ain’t nothing to even smile about. But I still ask her “How's everything” because I have no clue what else I should say to you. I want to make a joke, cause you know me as a class clown but life is no joke, and I know that better than anyone. Life's not fair in the slightest and I’ve always known that from being in foster care. Yet even I didn’t think life could be so cruel to just steal Rufina’s life from her. You tell me about how tough things ha...
"This door is alarmed". The door was also the emergency exit. The fire started in the hardware department. A battery exploded and soon the department was filled with choking black smoke. Customers rushed to the door. It was locked. By chance, there was a display of hammers. The manager, a big brawny bloke, grabbed a hammer and made his way to the door.. "Stand back, everybody." It was the sort of commanding voice people obeyed. He attacked the door with a will and smashed it so the grateful customers could escape. The door had a good reason to be alarmed. Derek McMillan is a writer in Durringon in the UK. His editor is his wife, Angela. He has written for print and online publications in the UK, USA and Canada. His latest book is the audio-book "Flash Fiction" which is available on eBay.
Flight of Fancy We were once the Sparrows, a pair of ordinary birds engrossed in our daily rituals of courtship dances, nest upkeep, and caring for our young. Our tranquil existence took an unexpected turn when you all of a sudden, declared yourself a penguin, adopting a comical waddle, craving fish suppers, and insisting on us being addressed as Mr and Mrs P. "Darling, what on earth has gotten into you?" I asked one day as I watched you flop around in your strange gait-a -go. "I just feel like I belong with them," you replied with a determined look in your eyes. "Them? Who are 'them' exactly?" "Penguins! Don't you see? They're my true family!" You exclaimed, flapping your wings in an excited manner. Your family tree seemed to be a breeding ground for avian identity crises; there was that eccentric uncle convinced he was a peacock trying to woo the peahens, and some distant relative who believed he was part duck until ...
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