A battered suitcase, a teacup, a length of chain, and one unforgettable head of hair—this week’s image gave our writers plenty of curious details to unpack.
The image prompt was:
The resulting stories introduced us to three wonderfully eccentric travelers. One recounts the outrageous exploits of a brother who never met a bad idea he couldn’t make worse. Another follows a forgetful wanderer whose search leads to a mysterious key and a discovery he cannot quite remember. And in the last, good fortune and misfortune cross paths on a journey that proves some searches end with more than we expected to find.
Browse the stories in the Flash Fiction Archives, or below.
A big thanks to everyone who participated and took on the challenge this week!
Table of Contents
- My brother, Luke by Mark Traynham
- Jordon X. McFlabbercrop by Jesse R Traynham - Author
- In Search of by Mary Zuelke Author
Likes: 2
Words: 200
This is the only known picture of my brother Luke, and as you can see in the picture, he trained his hair on his ears to look like wings used up dern near, a whole canna moms aqua net.
Well, grandma was in a quilting circle at church, and she entered her quilt in the state fair and got a first place ribbon. She sure was proud of that quilt. Well, Luke, he thought It would make a great parachute, so he climbed up on the barn and jumped off. He caved in the top of grandpa’s 49 ford, broke his arm and ripped the quilt. Grandma got her broom and chased him down Crump Street all the way to Billy Bobs, sept it was Cooks Discount Store at the time. He run out the back door into the roller derby knocked down the Blonde Bombshell and his team won. He gave grandma the plastic trophy. He was a smooth talker cept when he went out to Abilene and messed with the judges daughter. The judge put him on the chain gang. He begged them not to put the chain on his right arm. He escaped and joined the Marines.
Likes: 1
Words: 200
Jordon X. McFlabbercrop was an eccentric man. Most folks 'round here called him Cletus.
He spent his days wandering about our village with his crazy, anti-gravity hairstyle. Always searching. Everyone figured he had lost his marbles ages ago.
He often started a conversation and then got lost in his thoughts, staring into his teacup.
One day he met a man with a red balloon.
"Have you seen them?" he asked.
"I have not," said the man. "Maybe this will help." He handed the cherry-red balloon to Cletus and sauntered off.
Cletus didn't like balloons. He took the pin from his #47 tag and popped it.
The ground shook.
Red rubber fluttered about and a blue key clinked to the ground.
Curious, he picked up the key. It hummed in his hand. He balanced his teacup on a nearby rock and used the key to open his ragged suitcase.
"EUREKA! YOUR-REAK-AHHH!"
He ran through the village shouting, "I found them! They weren't lost after all!"
Used to Cletus' nonsense, most folks ignored him.
Finally, one brave girl asked, "What'd'ya find, Cletus?"
He drew in a large breath to prepare for an elaborate, pompous, grand speech. "I found . . . Oh. I've forgotten again."
Likes: 1
Words: 200
Mr. Seren Dipity was a happy, lucky fella; nothing phased him. Every morning he'd leave his castle in search of the key.
He traveled through forgotten ruins, towns, and caves. Today his path led him to the mine.
"Good day, ma'am. I am Mr. Seren Dipity. " He tipped his hat — then realized he had no hat. He offered her his hand, but it was chained. He reached cup-first and spilled coffee.
“Miss. Fortune.” She curtsied, her red balloon bobbing.
"Have you by chance noticed a key?"
She turned upon him and walked away.
"Right then. Cheerio!" He left with a spring in his step.
His path led him to the town of Merriment. He knocked at each door. Each door opened then just as quickly slammed in his face.
Still, his smile never faded.
As he turned homeward, he saw Miss Fortune.
He went to her.
“Your key sir.”
His eyes brightened. He unlocked the case, collected a garment, and with a bow handed it to her.
“If you will have me.”
She took the white dress from his hand and held it to her breast. She nodded with a smile.
They walked off into the sunset hand in hand.
When Colton Travers was just four months old, a runaway horse on Bent Oak Road caused a car wreck that left his mother dead. His father survived, then vanished. Raised on family stories and faded photographs, he never questioned the past . . . until a worn shoe box of old clippings surfaced with hints of a darker truth. Now, drawn into a fifty-year-old unsolved case, Colton must chase a trail gone cold, where memory holds the clues, time keeps the truth, and justice demands satisfaction.
Stargazing at the June Bug Ranch
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