Who knows where the time goes : Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Who knows where the time goes?

Alice slipped further into the armchair, feeling the weight of her body ease slowly into the cushions as she fought back the waves of nausea that were engulfing her.

The needle in the crook of her arm was throbbing and she fought the impulse to rip it out. So much pain in her body.
Even breathing seemed to be too much effort. It would be easier just to let go.

But not yet.

Through her half opened eyes she saw the nurse approaching but couldn’t find the courage or the force to stay awake and, instead, drifted further and further into the silent, inodorous, unfeeling darkness.

No more pain, no more suffering, just a soft voice singing in the darkness and the vision of a beautiful shimmering white peacock.

Someone squeezed her hand and awakening, she saw her daughter Melanie in a long white dress with a sparkling tiara, humming a song while waving her fairy wand in a vague circle of eight.

Definitely not yet.

It’s Tuesday and here is my entry to the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge.

Although the prompt is stunning (Thanks to Sonya, with the blog, Only 100 Words). I was also inspired this week by the wonderful song sang by Sandy Denny.

The Appointment

Here is my entry to  Sunday Photo Fiction. I’m on a Cruise Ship somewhere between Bergen and the Shetland Islands and with satellite wifi it’s a bit of a miracle that I can post but I’ll have to add the categories and tags later. Sorry! It was such a pain that I might miss a few weeks. We’ll see.

The Appointment 
He gazed into the shop windows along the High Street as he walked towards the car park. Nothing really caught his eye. Lots of stores were either boarded up or had for sale signs. 
His phone vibrated in his pocket. A text message. 

’Just a friendly reminder that your appointment with Anne is for 4pm’

He checked, 3.20 pm. He had ample time. Ten minutes to reach the car and ten more to drive to the Medical Centre. No problem. He kept the phone in hand.

Perhaps a quick coffee, he wondered? Better not: he’d always preferred being early.

Damn these mid-afternoon appointments. They ruined the day. 

He quickened his pace. The possibility of being late always stressed him. 

He turned the corner, and entered the car park, narrowly avoiding a woman in a shocking pink raincoat carrying two voluminous supermarket bags. 

“Sorry!” He said, turning slightly, but she just hurried along oblivious. 

Turning back he was unable to avoid the wheelchair, the frail elderly woman occupant, or the rather burly individual pushing it, coming at great speed in the opposite direction. 

Before he knew what had happened, he was straddled over the overturned wheelchair his elbow firmly planted in her midriff. Time stood still. The only sound he heard was the clatter of his phone on the Tarmac.

Then it was sheer pandemonium as the woman screamed, and the man shouted, “can’t you look where you’re going!!” Everyone turned to watch. 

His fingers tangled in the spokes of the wheelchair; he tried in vain to reach out and grab his phone with his free hand. 

Then he saw an immense American Truck approaching: It’s chrome gleaming, in the afternoon sun. 

The squealing brakes didn’t cover the sound of crunching plastic, as the trailer rode over his mobile. 

His afternoon appointment was no longer at the top of his list of priorities. 

Hailstorm

I was just preparing some pics for the OWPC challenge tomorrow when I came across this video of the event (I didn’t actually take any photos – they were taken by my wife). I’ve never posted a video before so I thought I’d see how it works.

This is the result. You can just carry on with your day now 🙂