Flash Fic: Waiting for the Storm

Photo by Adi Constantin on Unsplash


I should get off the roof before the storm comes in.

But my legs won’t work, won’t let me get up. My eyes won’t pull away from the taxi departure station below. Even though he’s already gone back north. Away from the city, the chaos, away from me.

How did he put it? This pace suits you, Ro. You’re always moving, always ready for the next best thing. But I’m tired of waiting for you to come back.

Funny isn’t it? Now I’m the one waiting, stuck, waiting for him to come back.

A minute later, I feel the first rain drop.

Flash Fic: Call the Winchesters

“This is truly my nightmare.”

Evan tried not to scoff. “Isn’t that a little dramatic, Lani? It’s just a parking garage.” With a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw Lani walk faster toward him, her uneven gait making her look extra grumpy.

“A mostly dark, wet parking garage with flickering lights. I’m wearing a broken heel and we are leaving the company event without telling anyone. Prime murder victims, my dude.”

Evan held out a hand to Lani as a peace offering, she took it and hobbled a little closer. “I sent a text to Malachi before we came down. If we go missing, he’ll alert the police.”

“Fuck the police.” Lani tried not to smile and squeezed his hand. “Call the Winchesters. I’m pretty sure that shadow just moved.”

Those Kind of Smells – Flash Fic

The house smells like dirty diapers, weak air fresheners, and something burnt. It’s all I can do from using my scarf to cover my nose. But I don’t think that would help sell the image I’m supposed to be giving off. A retired social worker turned private investigator who could handle her shit, not to mention her gag reflex.

Not that there was anyone watching me but the old landlord standing outside waiting to close the room back up. But damn, there were some smells that just got me. Dirty diapers were one of them. There was a reason I told my ex-girlfriend, that kids were not for me. Diapers and endless time to dedicate to their well being. When I honestly didn’t do a bang up job of taking care of myself.

I poured myself into work from an already empty cup…fuck, my therapist’s metaphors were starting to work it’s way into my daily thoughts. Fucking great….and I know I didn’t have much left to give anyone else. I was working on it, but it was going to take some time. Twenty five years of playing savior doesn’t just disappear over night.

And if my therapist was to be believed, being a PI wasn’t going to help matters. But when there’s a kid missing, well, she knows better than to argue with me now.

Passing Through – Flash Fic

Mara quieted her travel alarm clock and tossed it into her small duffle bag below her on the floor. She slipped out from under the covers and dressed as quietly as she could. Her second alarm on her old diving watch went off, signaling she had four minutes left. Quickly, but carefully, she folded the blankets she had borrowed and put it back in the linen closet. 

She was a pro at this by now — couch hopping. If it were a sport, she was sure to win a medal. Mara had several years of practice minimizing her presence, erasing any evidence she had been through, condensing her life into a small duffle bag and a sturdy vintage medicine bag.

With a minute and a half to spare, Mara grabbed her bags and stepped outside. Pressing the alarm button behind her. She rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck in the process and heaved a deep sigh. As she took a step toward the street ahead, she heard the alarm reactivate on the Michelson’s winter townhome behind her. 

Who needs B&B’s when Mara was a professional at B&E’s?

Never Ending – Flash Fic

“What will it take? What will it finally take for your ridiculous revenge plot to be satiated?” 

My head was heavy, and I didn’t want to get into this again. I was already past the point of exhausted, well into delirious at this point. And I knew Aria wouldn’t understand. 

“You know what I hate the most about these funerals?”

An exasperated sigh. “What?”

“The cloying sentiments, the conjured tears. As if these aren’t war criminals and genocidal villains that we’re burying.”

A heavy silence. “Then why are you still doing this, Emera?” 

“Because someone has to,” I muttered tiredly.


Flash Fiction Weekly Challenge. This week’s words are from my dear Quinn: delirious, cloying, satiated.

Photo by Jr Korpa via Unsplash

Temporarily Dead – Flash Fic

“Just because I’m temporarily dead, doesn’t mean you can ignore me.” 

I dabbed the grease from my pepperoni pizza, making a point to keep ignoring Jesi. I took a large bite and closed my eyes, enjoying the rare hot meal. 

“Answer the question, Rory.” Jesi pressed. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t have an answer, it’s just that she wouldn’t like it. I wiped my hands on my wrinkled pants and with a heavy sigh, I answered. “The ritual didn’t work, Jesi. Emele never finished his part, until I can find him –”

“I can’t come back.”

“You can’t come back.”


Flash Fiction Weekly Challenge: The Prediction. This week’s words are: grease, question, wrinkle

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash