Losing Hope — Flash Fiction


She rubbed her sunken eyes with the heels of her withered hands.

Why, oh why wouldn’t they come?

She moaned out loud and sank down on the wrought iron bed.

How long had she been waiting? Hours?

It seemed like days.

Her hope was dwindling.

She ambled away from the bed over to the large plate-glass window where, unthinking, she pressed her forehead against the glass. At once, she quickly moved away and erased her makeup smudges from the glass with a rag that she kept in her cardigan.

There. Perfect, as usual.

“Come on, come on…” she urged as each headlight passed by on the busy highway. “Why won’t they come?”

It was cold on the inside. Too cold for her, but just right for her guests who would be coming in from the oppressive August heat.

But where were they? It was getting late, and no one had shown up all evening. She looked at her watch and sighed. It had been a long, lonely day, and she was so weary of waiting.

Finally, it was over. Her wait was over for the day. Maybe they would come tomorrow.

She went to the back and locked up the cash for the day. After switching off all of the lights, she locked the door behind her.

As she backed her car out of the lot, she glanced once more at the neon sign that indicated that her failing business, Mattress Emporium, was put to bed for another day.


Big shout out to Fiddle_stix_n_picks_945, an eBay seller who allowed me to us the bed picture. You can find their deals at http://stores.ebay.com/discountdealsandseals . Thanks so much!

God Painted the Sky


August 21–Evening Sunset over Madison.

Visit any famous art museum, from the Louvre to the Met,

And you will find no greater work to compare to the evening sky of yesterday–

A breath-taking sky painting from God.

As my husband and I and our friends exited a restaurant, we encountered the painting.

With its oranges, yellows, and purples.

And other guests of the nature gallery had phones directed upward,

Attempts to capture the beauty forever.

“The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his handy work.”

Psalm 19:1 (KJV)

Cicada Night — A Flash Fiction Story

My friend at Short Tale Shrew has set up a community of flash fiction writers. According to her, flash fiction is a work of fiction that engages the reader in less than 1,000 words.

So here’s my first attempt at writing flash fiction. I hope you’ll enjoy reading “Cicada Night.”



Cicadas screeched in the trees. Dusk wrapped around her like fog. She tried to breathe through the dust that swirled around her as she creeped forward.

Forward, backward. She counted her paces and hoped it would be over soon.

The man behind her—was he getting closer to her? Too close? She made a fast turn to avoid him. She sighed. He was moving to her far right, and then out of her line of sight. Her breath came in rasps. She began coughing as dust collected in her lungs.

She circuited to the corner. Was he still behind her? Or had he come around the back way, cutting her off once again. She could not venture near him. She could not. It would be a danger to both him as well as herself.

And then, he was there! In front of her, wielding the device! No choice. She had no choice but to remove her key from the ignition.

He coughed before speaking as the dusk faded to dark.

“Honey, I’m done with the weed-eater. If you’re done mowing, how ‘bout we go in for lemonade and I’ll do the leaf-blower tomorrow?”