Tag: flash fiction

Children grow up

The red Volkswagen Beetle pulled up at the gate. Mary sat reading on the porch, with a black retriever on the floor, his tail curled up and his belly heaving in massive breaths. She didn’t look up at the man who walked towards her.

“Hello Mom,” he paused for her acknowledgement. The dog had lifted his head, curious, but seeing an impassive Mary, remained seated.

“Hello Jason. How’re Carol and the kids?”

“Great! The twins love the new house — plenty of space.” He smiled sitting down next to his mother. “Oh, you got a dog since we moved out. Is it wild?”

“A little,” Mary replied stroking the dog. “But Jerry sure won’t bite the hand that fed him.”

Proud parents

Julia glowed in quiet pride. She’d nabbed her prize. She held on as if her life depended on it, and strutted along the path with her head high.

Every day her brothers had treated her like a useless lump of meat. They’d gather round at dinner flaunting their treasures while she remained in the shadows crouching, hoping they wouldn’t laugh at her.

Not any more. She growled to herself as she tightened her clutch on the little rabbit. Feeling his heartbeat racing under her paws, she entered their home. Her parents couldn’t believe their youngest chimp had begun hunting already.

A comforting shoulder

From behind his picket fence, Benjamin saw the kids playing. Along with the five year old twins from across the lawn, was the oldest kid in the block, Ryan. The three of them held a small teddy bear above Mark’s face — the three year old who’d just moved to the neighbourhood with his grandparents.

Ben remained rooted as Mark reached out to his teddy, and failing. Ryan was laughing, the pinkish gums behind his primary teeth, now gleaming in the sun. When his mother called for dinner, he cast the teddy aside and ran, the twins in his wake.

Mark had slopped on the ground, weeping. Retrieving the teddy from the sludge, Benjamin sat beside the child, and put his arm around him.

Bullied kids need a comforting shoulder. Ben knew, because he’d had none.

All in a day’s work

It was the year’s fifth meeting. HR manager, Jay, was inducting new recruits, a wide grin stretching on his otherwise unremarkable, freckled face. He waited while the group shuffled, some excited, some anxious, and some adjusting chairs. When they’d settled, he unlocked his arms, leaning on the table, instead.

“Welcome!”His eyes moved from one to another. They returned his toothy grin. Over the next hour, his ecstatic voice described the corporate guidelines. And as they exited, his voice resounded: “Good luck!” Jay’s grin disappeared as soon as the door shut.

Corporate hiring had become mushrooming—in thousands, disgusting and useless.

Giving way

Since he arrived in Magtown 55 years ago, Djon had worked hard to earn the respect he now received. Like many youngsters, he started in the mines. Unlike most, however, he’d had the passion to improve not only his life but also others’. Soon, he’d grown to start his own factory.

Thanks to Djon, the town had railway lines, continuous power supply, and on-demand medical services. Whenever they saw him on the street, people always gave him way.

But he gave way only to her. He’d stand back while his Labrador, wagging, strutted through the house demanding her share of respect.