Flash Fiction Friday!

Is that a thing? It is today. Will it happen again? Who knows! I hope so!

Have you ever written flash fiction?

No, I’m not talking about fan fiction about the fastest man alive.

Flash fiction! Where all you’ve got is a limited amount of time, a limited amount of words, and little prompt to get you going!

Old Flames is a flash fiction piece I wrote for school! Our prompt was to write a short story that HAS to include four specific words. I think we had 30 minutes, and it had to be 500 words or less.

Sounds fun, right?

Well, I have a challenge for you: As you read, try to guess which four words were in the prompt!

Stick to the end to see if you were right or not! (No cheating! I’m looking at you, Alli…)

Without further ado, Old Flames!

Short story: Old Flames

I lean my head against the diner window. The air is heavy with the smell of hot coffee—thick with the smell of bacon grease and smoke. My stomach clenches at the thought of eating. I push away the plate in front of me, stacked with a large, bleeding slice of cherry pie. Anton sits across from me, cradling little Suzy in his arms. She’s almost two now. So different from the last time I saw her. Her dark skin is like mine, splattered with lighter patches like splotches of chai over coffee grounds. But there are more light patches than last time…

Her eyes are closed as she snoozes in Anton’s hug. I don’t think she remembers me. That’s probably good. But I can see the sweat beading on her brow, even as she smiles in her sleep. I swallow hard and look away from her. 

While Anton strokes Suzy’s deep brown curls, he just stares at me. I can see burns on his hands, peaking out from the stark white bandages. And he just stares at me. Silence hangs between us, almost tangible. As thick as the waitress’s patchouli perfume as she skates slowly back over to us. She sets a cheeseburger down in front of Anton, and a can of Sprite.

“Anything else?” she asks, large teeth smacking over a wad of bubblegum.

Anton shakes his head. Looks at me. The waitress looks too. Looks down at the lump of pie in front of me, untouched. 

I shake my head, sinking in the booth, as if maybe, if I’m lucky, the teal vinyl will swallow me down and make me disappear. 

Anton starts eating his burger. I stare at the blue-and-white checkered floor tiles. I hear the click of his can opening and the faint fizz of carbonation. 

The bell rings on the front door as it swings open. Curiosity takes hold of me and I peak over the bench, over Anton’s head, to get a better look. 

Dread hits me. 

Of course, I think. Of course he called my father. 

Dad puts a quarter in the jukebox in the corner—the jukebox everyone in the diner has been avoiding like a contagious infection. The silence hanging over the diner is rudely interrupted by an old Elvis song. I don’t recognize it.

Dad walks over, hands in the pockets of his jeans. His hair is thinner since the last time I saw him. Whiter, too. It wisps over his head like breaking surf, curling around his ears. 

He stands at the edge of our table. Smooths down his flannel shirt, sighing. He looks to the pie. Looks to me. 

“Do you like this one, kiddo?” he asks after a moment, looking up at the ceiling as if that’s where the music is coming from. He snaps his fingers, muttering along to the words. 

I glare past him, not ready to meet his judging stare. “All Elvis sounds the same to me.” 

He laughs. “Right…”

Silence falls again, except for Elvis’s ramblings. 

Dad clears his throat, then turns to Anton. “She didn’t want the pie?” he asks, hushed as if I can’t still hear him. 

I roll my eyes. 

Anton shakes his head. “Said she wasn’t hungry.” 

My stomach flips as my eyes land on Suzy again. Of course I’m not hungry, I think. Anton takes another large bite of his burger. I swallow down bile. 

“How can you possibly eat at a time like this,” I mutter. 

Anton holds Suzy a little tighter. She stretches, but stays asleep. 

“Forgive me for being hungry,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. 

It starts as a tingling sensation in my fingertips. Then a heat in my ears. Then my shoulders set on fire and the rage spills down from my face into my toes. Slowly, I sit up straight in the booth. 

“You take her from me,” I hiss. “You call me dangerous. An unfit mother. A—” 

Dad puts his hand on the table, “Now, honey, I wouldn’t say—” 

“You threw me out!” I shout. “You took his side!” I hiss the word “his” like it tastes like gasoline, glaring at Anton while I say it. 

My cheeks flush hotter as dad forces himself next to me in the booth. 

“Muffin,” he says. “That was before we knew…knew…” He looks to Anton, who shrugs. 

“This is for her,” Anton says, tilting his head down to Suzy. “Don’t be selfish, babe.” 

My fist clenches at the pet name, and my spine floods with heat at the insinuation. Tongues of fire begin to bud at my fingertips—I clench my fist tighter to snuff them out. I stare daggers at my cherry pie. At the pool of red syrup. 

The syrup begins to boil. 

But my heart beat slows. 

Because I know. I know Anton is right. 

Don’t be selfish, I think to myself. This is your burden. I look to Suzy. The sweat on her brow is dripping down her cheeks. She frowns slightly, twisting in Anton’s arms and shuttering. Then the smile returns. 

This is your burden, I think again, but it doesn’t have to be hers. 

“She having trouble controlling it?” I ask softly. 

“From what I hear,” dad says. Anton nods, unable to look me in the eye. 

I nod my head, grab a red-hot fork off the table, and eat a bite of pie.

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But what was the prompt?

Did you enjoy that story? I had a blast writing it. It ended up having a sort of Firestarter vibe… Although I’ve never actually read/seen Firestarter, so who knows how accurate that statement is…

Are you ready to learn the four words we had to include…? Here we go (drum roll please)…

• Can 
• Chai 
• Cradle  
• Cherry 

We came up with the words at random—it’s a total coincidence that they all start with C, I swear!

Are those the words you guessed? Let me know in the comments!

Itching to write your own flash fiction piece?

You totally should! You can come up with your own prompt, or use this one!

In all the talk about mundane wonder, it’s so cool to me that our brains can weave four unrelated words into a cohesive story. I mean, I hope mine was cohesive. At least for the word and time limit, haha!

Have fun with it! You might surprise yourself.

I’ll type out the prompt again just so you don’t have to scroll 🙂

Write a short story using these four words: cherry, chai, cradle, and can.
You have 30 minutes! Make sure it’s 500 words or less.
Ready…?
GO!

don’t forget to have fun!

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