Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: 2021: Week #08

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Find the challenge here: https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2021/02/24/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2021-week-08/

Debbie’s Day at the Beach

Debbie couldn’t understand why there was a “No Swimming” sign at a public beach. If you weren’t supposed to swim what were you supposed to do? Not only could she not understand the sign but she saw a few teenagers swimming not that far from the sign. This meant they either didn’t care what the sign said or they really didn’t see it. Debbie figured it was probably the first thought, that they just ignored it. 

Slowly she laid her towel and put her bag at the end for her headrest. It was hot and the water looked so inviting. Debbie didn’t know how long she would be able to sit here and not go into that refreshing water. 

Finally, Debbie decided that just putting her feet in wouldn’t hurt; that certainly  couldn’t be called swimming. She walked to the edge of the water and looked back over her shoulder to see if there was anyone around who would tell her to get out of the water. The beach was empty. Debbie stepped in and felt herself sinking into the sand. It was sucking her in. What was this? Quicksand? Oh why didn’t she just do what the sign said! 

©2021 CBialczak Flash Fiction


For Roger Shipp: https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2020/10/27/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2020-week-46/

Present for Grandma

Mommy, I made Grandma a necklace. 

You did! Wow, she is going to love it I’m sure. We can put it in an envelope and mail it to her. 

But I want to go give it to her! 

Well, right now because of the virus no one can visit the people who live at Grandma’s living center. 

But it won’t be the same if she just opens an envelope and gets this! It deserves a box at least! 

©2020 CBialczak Flash Fiction

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: 2020: Week #17

Written for: https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2020/04/22/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2020-week-17/

THe island

Tessa looked out over the ridge. For miles and miles all she could see were trees. She would never find the shore of the island. She couldn’t remember how she got here and certainly didn’t know how she was going to leave. At least she knew, with the waterfall in the distance as her sure proof, there was fresh water here. Tessa knew to drink sparingly lest get some sort of parasitic or bacterial infection from unfiltered water. Maybe she would find some belongings down near the falls. She couldn’t believe she had just dropped down here with nothing other than the clothes on her back.  

©2020 CBialczak Fiction



Written for the writing community: https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/

Jack’s Story

Jack sat down at the table and pulled the bench closer so he could rest his head on the table. He crossed his arms and laid his head down, hoping his hands didn’t decide to go numb, forcing him to sit back up. It had been a hard day for Jack. He woke at five, did the household chores, went outside and tended to his animals, and finished any laundry that had accumulated this past week. He hated chores as much as he hated animals and laundry. He didn’t know why his late wife had insisted they move here and get animals. He would have been just as happy in the city. But since her passing last year, Jack had come to a regular routine, without anyone to argue with about it.  

With his head on his hands, Jack sobbed. He missed Betsy and wondered why God had taken her so soon. As the tears rolled down his face and across his hands, he could smell the sulfur from the matches used to light his candle last night. Betsy had loved fires and candles. Just one more thing to keep him crying.  

©2020 CBialczak Fiction


For: https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2020/03/25/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2020-week-13/#like-1160


The Box

Cathy put her gloves back on, moved her kneeling pad to a new area of the garden, and began weeding a new section which would be perfect for her tomatoes. She had gotten most of the other areas clear and ready for planting. In a matter of months, she would be harvesting her own vegetables, not having to run to the market.  

When she had finally finished that area, she decided she’d had enough gardening for the day. She put all of her tools on top of the kneeling pad and carried them back into the garage. From under the workbench a sparkle of metal caught her eye. Getting down on her hands and knees, Cathy was able to see under the table and see it was an old Skeleton Key.  

“This has got to be the key to that box I found last fall in the shed,” she said to herself. Hurrying into the house, not realizing all the dirt she was tracking in from the yard, she ran into the living room. There, on the lowest shelf of the bookcase was that wooden box. She didn’t know what was inside of it, but now she would be able to finally solve this mystery.  

©2020 CBialczak Fiction