Worthing Flash

Making friends with the giant is cheaper than renting a crane.  Show him our good side, he will show us his. Fairy tales have taught us the wrong lessons. Embracing those lessons, we approach the giant with fear and plans to control him, and he reacts.   Offer him a keg of beer, make a place at the gossip fire, and he calms, slips into a passive rhythm.  The complaints that he sometimes peers in second-floor windows while women undress are unimportant.  I have seen him urinate, and there is no possibility of fit.  Maybe with Jersey’s wife?  There are rumors. Ken Poyner   www.kpoyner.com , www.barkingmoosepress.com   Winter’s Last Apple —poetry, prose poetry, micro-fiction Stone the Monsters, or Dance – speculative poetry Lessons From Lingering ...

In a rush, Nathan grabbed his sister’s fragrant shampoo. As he pedaled to Legend Lake to meet his pals to kick the ball around, a butterfly landed in his hair. Bees soon followed. The lake seemed his sole escape, so in he jumped. A voice called out, “Hey, champ! Let’s talk community swim team!” Three weeks later, Nathan clinched his first trophy. Bio: Roberta Beach Jacobson (she/her) is drawn to the magic of words–poetry, song lyrics, flash fiction, puzzles, and stand-up comedy. Her latest book is Demitasse Fiction: One-Minute Reads for Busy People (Alien Buddha Press, 2023). She lives in Indianola, Iowa, USA with her husband and three cats. Roberta Beach Jacobson Author, Demitasse Fiction

    Charmaine selected different footwear every morning.   Her old worn shoes envied the newer shiny models.   “I holidayed in Saint Tropez,” gushed the sling -back golden sandals.   “I crossed the finishing line of the New York City Marathon, 2019 it was, boasted the runners. Look, my rosettes attached!”   “I saved her from frost-bite many a winter,” bleated the woolly ole snow boots.   "Royalty sipped champagne from my pointed toes,” preened the red stilettos.   “None of you witnessed the boudoir trysts as I have," hinted the tight-zipped Parisian slippers.   Once they called Charmaine that barefoot girl from the marshes, but not anymore.      Mary Anne McEnery

By Frances Aitken ‘ Almost twenty years ago, I did something really bad and now it’s come back to haunt me. I made a false accusation that cost a man his job.’ ‘ How come it’s taken you so long to regret what you did, Fred?’ ‘ Because I now know my days are numbered. Yesterday, I saw the quack to get the results of a brain scan. The funny thing is that the reason they did the scan turns out not to be a problem but it showed a large aneurism in my brain that could burst at any time. It’s probably been there since birth. The really scary part is that I won’t get any notice; this thing will burst and a minute later I’ll be dead.’ ‘ Good God! My dear fellow, I’m so sorry. So, you’ve been reviewing your life in expectation of the Final Judgement. Is that it?’ ‘ It is. I wish I was a Catholic, then I’d confess and get absolution. But I’m not, so I’m stewing in guilt and there’s no way I can escape the inevitable retribution.’ ‘ What happened to the guy?’ ‘ That’s a large part of the p...

The 100-word challenge will continue through April and the final judging will be on Mayday. Stories which are more than 100 words are still very welcome. The usual rules apply - anything under 1000 words. Stories do not have to originate from Worthing, #worthingflash has a worldwide group of 100 authors now. If you can send in a photo to go with the story and a brief bio, so much the better. #worthingflash has been going since 4 July 2018 and 74,000 people have visited the blog so far. If you are not able to send in a story, please feel free to tell a friend about this great opportunity to see their name in print. 😁 The blog address is https://worthingflash.blogspot.com Email worthingflash@gmail.com with your story in the body of the email or as an attached document The Facebook page is https://www.facebook.com/worthingflash You are not required to join Facebook. All the best Derek McMillan

By Kaia Valentine I knew he recognized me. I knew from the twinkle in his bloodshot, blue eyes. How could he not? We grew up in a town with one post oce. Everyone knew everybody’s name. Nobody left if they grew up there, except me and Dwayne. We had to. After we testied, the marshals gave us new names, and they got us as far away from Joytown as they possibly could. But there was Brandon Booth across the restaurant sitting with his family. Years of looking over our shoulders has been blown in just one feral instant. We’re as good as dead    

t Is Better to Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth (Word count: 100) By Marcelo Medone The king rose from his throne and looked at the crowd at his feet. "Today, after ten long years of war, our enemy has ignominiously abandoned the siege of our glorious city." (Widespread applause and cheers.) "We have even confiscated the colossal offering they made to their gods." (More applause.) "I declare the beginning of festivities. Food and wine for all! Let the music play!" King Priam gazed proudly at the huge wooden horse he had seized from the Greeks. Little did he know that it housed the best Achaean soldiers, ready to take Troy by storm that very night. BRIEF BIO Marcelo Medone (1961, Buenos Aires, Argentina) is a fiction writer, poet, essayist, playwright and screenwriter. His works received numerous awards and were published in multiple languages in more than 50 countries all over the world, including the UK. He was awarded the First Prize in the 2021 intern...

Demons cannot do harm in real life. In dreams and reveries? Untold damage. People in the village were saying that the girl I met on the common was a demon. They seemed pretty certain about it too. This was ridiculous. Erica had long blonde hair and blue eyes. In those days all demons were foreigners and she did not look like a foreigner. Even so, I got her to swear blind that she was not a demon. "Do I look like a demon?" "No." "Well then." "So you're not?" "No, Tony, I am not a demon. I could swear on a Bible." She did and the Bible did not burst into flames either. The village was Sodbury but Erica actually came from Nether Sodbury which was a twenty minute walk away. Nobody in Sodbury ever went there. To say that Erica haunted my dreams would make her sound sinister. Let's just say that I haunted my own dreams with images of Erica. My family would not countenance a marria...