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Post1439. Wednesday February 1

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Where did they go? What happened to the days when the worst thing George could lose was a marble?

And what of his dreams? He made plans, lots of plans. He tried to make them come true, he really did. But they got lost along the way.

He was never lucky in love. He tried bless him. He wooed a few but always lost out to other men. So unfair.

He would lose bets, lose at card games, lose jobs. His team lost every football match.

He spent his life searching, seeking, trying. Losing.

The other night some of his contemporaries were chatting over old times in the pub. ‘What happened to him?’ one asked pointing to George who was sitting alone in a corner mumbling into his half of beer.

‘Lives in a home apparently’ said another. ‘They say he lost his marbles’

They all laughed.

George didn’t. He had one more thing to do. That cackling lot over there wouldn’t be laughing much longer. This was one battle he was determined not to lose. All he had to do was come up with an idea. Sadly though, just then he lost his train of thought.

Poor George.

Wordcount 200. Written for FFfAW and inspired by this week’s photo.

Click Froggie to find others' tales.

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Posted Tuesday December 13

A thousand sparkling diamonds encrust a jet black sky. Icy particles on the grass beneath my feet glisten in the eerie light of a shimmering silver moon. I should sleep. But if I did I would be deprived of this secret miracle of nature.

A distant hoot of a night owl breaks the silence, and a rabbit darts hither and thither on its zig-zag route. The green eyes of a fox stare straight into mine as it stands motionless, balanced on three legs. A moth flutters around a lamp.

If I were asleep, the world of the night would carry on regardless. I would be unaware of it. It would be unaware of me.

Eyes heavy, legs leaden, I reluctantly wend my weary way home. I open wide the curtains and lay on my bed looking out through frozen panes of glass to the place I’ve just discovered.

It will have gone when I wake. The calm of the night replaced by the bustle of the day.

And so to sleep wishing I was a creature of the night.

Wishing, sleeping, dreaming.

This week's photo at Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is provided by Maria @ Doodles and Scribbles