Flash Fiction – Stripping the Words Bare, Part 2

To celebrate their 30th anniversary, Writers Victoria ran a flash fiction competition in April, 2019. For 30 days they posted a prompt at 8:00 am and we had until midnight to write a 30 words response.

I was lucky enough to win April 7 for the prompt Saltwater. I posted my first 10 stories here. Here are the next 10 …




April 11 Trapped

I know a monster so insidious it can cripple a man. Turn a building to ruin. Crush an empire. Nothing and nobody will survive. There is no escape from time.



April 12 Wild

“What if I fail?”

Nana’s wrinkled hands clasp mine. “I stayed safe my whole life. Don’t make the same mistake. Play a few wild cards, Anita. You’ll never regret it.”

April 13 Layers

A ski holiday? A misnomer. My son battles every item: socks, thermals, tops, ski-pants, jacket, gloves, helmet and goggles.
Phew, mission accomplished.
“Mum, I need to go to the toilet.”

April 14 Gloss

Why did her painting shine? It wasn’t an oil and wasn’t varnished. The colours had bled. She wailed in dismay when a drip from the ceiling splattered on the canvas.

April 15 Tears

At her son’s graduation, Mary reminisces – his twenty-first, childhood illnesses and the secret she never shared.
She nudges her husband. “Best break ever, that dinger.”
He chuckles. “Our little ripper.”

April 16 Blunder

It was the smallest of errors, less than a centimetre. If only she hadn’t made the CEO the butt of the joke. If only she’d clicked reply instead of reply-all.

April 17 Tenacity

You think it’s easy being married to an aging playboy? Ha! The lying, the cheating, the sexual games.
In a decade, when the pre-nup expires … it’ll look like suicide.

April 18 Precious

Juliet refused to ski the week before the performance. The cast called her precious until she relented. Never was a story of more woe than when Romeo broke his leg.

April 19 Despair

Her stomach heaved. “They told me it’d stop at twelve weeks. I’m at thirty.”
“It’ll stop.”
She hunched over the toilet. “Shoot me now.”
“It’ll stop for sure at forty.”

April 20 Lustre

Tom reached under the couch. “Look Mummy.” Something shiny. Something black, with a splash of colour.
“No!” Melanie grabbed the toddler just before his hand closed around the redback spider.

Next time: the next in my series of interviews with Mansfield personalities, Kelli Virtanen, Wellness coach, Author, Mother
Next flash fiction: Flash Fiction – Stripping the Words Bare, Part 3

4 thoughts on “Flash Fiction – Stripping the Words Bare, Part 2

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