The saloon had been bequeathed to Kitty by the person who shared her name, her beloved grandmother Miss Kitty, who was the original owner and proprietor of The Long Branch Saloon in Dodge City. Kitty had spent many hours playing upstairs in her grandmother’s apartment while the saloon was readied for another night of raucous activity. Grandmother was a widow but Kitty remembered a special man who visited the Long Branch in an official and sometimes unofficial capacity. He was tall, rugged, and handsome with piercing blue eyes. He often brought little gifts for the girl. Those were happy times. She never thought she would be happy again after her own husband left her without a penny to her name. She smiled as she remembered the letter from her grandmother that was attached to the will, I hope you will consider taking over The Long Branch. It has always brought me luck and I know it will do the same for you. Kitty smiled again as Matt walked through the saloon door.
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is hosted by Priceless Joy of the Beautiful Words blog. Image of saloon is courtesy of Etol Bagam.
This is the new me! I have met my goal weight according to my BMI, said Ms. Knogle excitedly. Now I can wear those small dress sizes I have only dared dream about. And you should see how people just stare at me now while before they never gave me any notice!
Dr. Trim cringed. How could this happen? The computer had always been reliable before. Week after week, month after month, year after year, spewing out the weight recommendations to the staff according to the patient’s BMI. We never had to question it before or give it any thought at all. What could have gone wrong? After all, the computer never makes a mistake.
The office manager stepped into Dr. Trims’s office. The tech people have figured out what happened, she said nervously. The computer program was corrupted. It is possible it was hacked.
That’s just great, he replied. Have you looked into my waiting room? It looks like a bone yard.
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is hosted by Priceless Joy of the blog Beautiful Words. Image of Ms. Knogle, the skeleton, by Pixabay.com
“To live in the hearts we leave behind is to live forever.”
― Carl Sagan
After a hectic day of souvenir shopping, I was looking for a quiet place to have dinner when I spotted the sign for the China Boat. Jim and I loved going out for Chinese food. We went to the same little place in China Town for years. My trip to London was an attempt to escape the pain of my husband’s death. We always said we would go to Europe one day. His death made me realize that I shouldn’t put things off for tomorrow because tomorrow may never come. I had not had much of an appetite for past few months but I found myself enjoying the food. It turned out the chef was from San Francisco and I told him the food tasted like home. There was the usual fortune cookie for desert. I absentmindedly opened it and read the message. If you die in an elevator be sure to push the up button. Jim would have loved that one.
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is hosted by Priceless Joy. Image provided by Louise of The Storyteller’s Abode. Funny quote in the fortune cookie by Sam Levenson
Zenarra was homesick for the home world. She loved her new home in the beautiful Valley of the Moon but she missed the Galaxy trees that bloomed at night on the full moon rising of Lunaris. There was nothing like it here. It was strange that she, a princess, was a fugitive from her world. She fled to escape an arranged marriage to Tomar. It had been arranged at birth between their parents, the leaders of the two most powerful clans. Her flight has caused a great outcry and accusations of fraud by the Clan Dorcha. Minat sent Zenarra a message from her mother, the queen, begging her to return. The queen feared a war could erupt at any time and asked her to fulfill her duty. The prospective groom was a degenerate whose cruelty was legend. Zenarra would return not to become a bride, but to lead an army.
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is hosted by Priceless Joy. Images provided by Pixabay.com
The little lighthouse was now the refuge for tired sea birds on their long journeys across the ocean. It’s light is dimmed as it’s candle has fallen into disrepair. Once it’s beacon had shown brightly and was a welcome sight to lonely ships navigating the rocky coast. It had prevented many disasters and saved many lives. Let our lives be a refuge and friendly beacon to others traveling on the stormy sea.
This post is in memory of Barbara Beacham in collaboration with Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.
The Germ Gang decided they needed a break from the Anti-bacterial War. They were not feeling the love. They realized that some of their kind were pretty dangerous but they were just the easy going ones. They were getting a bad rep. So they decided to visit their cousins who lived in the forest and snack on some dead plants and insects and maybe a few mushrooms. They hitched a ride on a raccoon who was raiding a garbage can. The Germs really enjoyed the change of scene and visiting with their distant cousins. They took a quick photo before heading back to the city on the backpacks of some hikers.
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by Priceless Joy. The image is provided by Etol Bagam.
Anbu had struggled to make his farm prosperous for his wife Aasha, yet he was barely scratching out a living. He had been unlucky in another way. He and Aasha were unable to have children. In a desperate attempt to succeed he had given his last few coins to buy a few game birds hoping they would breed and their offspring would bring a good price at the market. He had gone out to feed his small flock when he was transfixed by a magical sight. A beautiful white peacock stood in the middle of his flock and fanned its tail. He couldn’t wait to tell Aasha. This bird would bring a great price at the market. That was when he heard the peacock speak. If you spare me from the market I will bring you a greater prize. Anbu told himself he must be crazy but he kept the white bird. That spring his wife gave birth to a daughter. They named her Aashirya.
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by Priceless Joy