Turning edges

She lived a life that some would describe as being on edge: the edge at a corner to be precise.

Starring unseeingly beyond the cloud of thick nicotine fog into a dark future contorted by disillusion and charred picket fences. She was the poster girl for broken dreams.

Flicking the cigarette stub in the bin she approached the dressing table, time to get ready. First, foundation, then concealer. Slowly her transformation into an innocent sexual minx was complete, all that was left was a faded pink lipstick perfect to offset her dark bold eyes.

Putting on the dark purple jumpsuit she smiled, it was perfect: tight enough to entice, understated enough to elude memory shortly after. For her target, however, the memory would linger beyond the clothes if only for a while.

No more penny chasing: tonight the edge turns a corner, a sharp corner. What was it they said about branching out …

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham


Written by Chioma I.N

In response to the mondaysfinishthestory flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara. The picture and the first sentence are provided and you have to complete the story in 100- 150 words. Click on the link to read others stories. Thanks Barbara for providing the picture.

Also written for the nablopomo challenge day 2.

Thank you for stopping by.

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Preying vulture.

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

“”I watched the vulture looking at me hungrily as I lay on the ground bleeding and injured.” I had nothing to be ashamed of; the battle had been brutal, but I fought as any valiant knight would, defending home and hearth. Closing my eyes to embrace the soothing blindness of death, I hear the song from my youth “Food, glorious food! Hot sausage and mustard!While we’re in the mood …” The vultures song beaconing more of it’s kind to feast upon my flesh.” He recited the story, eyes dead locked to a perfect match across the room.

“I never thought I would live to see the day when my son became the vulture preying on me.” He continued

“Enough of your theatrics father; no one is a vulture and no one is preying upon on your dead soul. I am only taking what is rightfully mine.”

“Rightfully yours under false pretences and guile?” holding his gaze, seeking a reason to save the vulture from the elusive trap ahead.


Written by Chioma I.N

In response to the mondaysfinishthestory flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara. The picture and the first sentence are provided and you have to complete the story in 100- 150 words. Click on the link to read others stories.

Thanks Barbara for providing the picture.

Thank you for stopping by.

Gatekeeper.

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham Few knew about the castle hidden inside the island. They arrived excited; ready to explore the island and discover its one true ‘treasure’ as promised in the brochure. Observing their expressions afterwards was rather entertaining:

Those over-the-hill looked like they had seen a reflection of themselves: a structure with its entire grandeur facing south, dependent on external support.

Those caught in the middle looked exactly like that: ‘caught in the middle’ upset at what their future prospects might look like: desirous to go back to the past they took for granted.

And the young, well they couldn’t even comprehend what the whole fuss was about. They spent time running around or buried face deep behind some gadget.

Sometimes I wonder if the expressions are there or simply the perceptions of an old gatekeeper.

All the same, each felt hoodwinked. At twenty euros per person to view the shell of a ‘treasure’ I would feel hoodwinked too.


Written by Chioma I.N

In response to the mondaysfinishthestory flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara. The picture and the first sentence are provided and you have to complete the story in 100- 150 words. Click on the link to read others stories.

Thanks Barbara for providing the picture.

Thank you for stopping by.


A & B house.

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham  “The A&B Building was made entirely from driftwood.”

“Really?”

“Yes really, we woke up one morning to find the entire beach covered with the stuff: as usual the higher powers didn’t know what to do with it and then they took their time before granting us approval to build the A & B building.”

“But in all fairness Al, it was worth the wait, millions of tourists did troop in from everywhere to visit the first house built of driftwood. Everyone was happy for a while.” said Sally trying to keep Al from getting upset.

Ignorant of his new neighbours growing agitation the newbie asked the question bound to topple him over the edge “Where is the building now?

“They tore it down, demolished it in a single day. No questions asked! Said it didn’t fit into the new landscape for the area. And with that, the Ants & Bugs camping resort was no more: insufferable frogs!!”


Written by Chioma I.N

In response to the mondaysfinishthestory flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara. The picture and the first sentence are provided and you have to complete the story in 100- 150 words. Click on this link to read others stories.

Thanks Barbara for providing the picture.

Thank you for stopping by.

Evil spirit

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham She lived in a mango tree: she ate her four daughters and turned her sons to imbeciles. Those were some of the stories pedalled about her. How she did this nobody knows? Why she did it, reasons abound everywhere.

They also said that at night you can see her floating if you looked at her legs through a mirror(this is accepted to be the true test of an obganje), but be warned if she catches you in the act you’ll receive a knock rumoured to turn your world askew.

Even warriors were afraid as they believed that every man who crossed her part lost their akpa amu, abandoned their wives and eloped to a different village with her.

Standing at her door, she smiled as a child scurried through the bushes to avoid her. Most of the tales were true others were not, are you brave enough to explore them?


Sorry people I published it unfinished at first, this is the complete version.

Glossary:

Ogbanje: an evil spirit believed to bring misfortune to families.

Akpa amu: scrotal sac

Written by Chioma I.N

In response to the mondaysfinishthestory flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara. The picture and the first sentence are provided and you have to complete the story in 100- 150 words. Click on this link to read others stories.

Thanks Barbara for providing the picture.

Thank you for stopping by.

Red haired witch.

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

“From her small balcony, the witch watched the world go by, looking down on everyone else as though she was better than us.” Grandma snarled

“The horrible man eating cow!”

In an amused despairing voice mother cautioned “I don’t like you talking like this in front of my Billie mum, it’s not right.”

Still hissing with venom, grandma coughed and carried on “What’s wrong with it, she needs to learn about such despicable people. You listen to your grandma Billie: there are everywhere, large bosomed red-haired conniving lot desperate to get their hands on your man.”

“Honestly mother, let it go and even if Billie gets a man she won’t have to worry about him wondering off with a red-haired lady … ”

“I’m certain she won’t, grandma has taught her well,”

“No mum, you keep forgetting. Billie is a red-haired lady, perhaps people should worry about her! Honestly mother.”

The witch looked on as they walked past her house.


This story was inspired by the comedy series Bread.

Written by Chioma I.N

In response to the mondaysfinishthestory flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara. The picture and the first sentence are provided and you have to complete the story in 100- 150 words. Click on this link to read others stories.

Thanks Barbara for providing the picture.

Thank you for stopping by.


Choices … decades apart.

© 2015, Marcy B. Ayanian
2015, Marcy B. Ayanian

As her mount shifted uneasily under her, she grasped the brim of her old felt Stetson, gazed upwards and remembered Jean Pierre. They had met on a beautiful summer day on this same spot so many decades ago. Her young heart had yearned for wild romance and he had provided it liberally, but the fear of an uncertain future and her father’s harsh promise stopped her from letting him deflower her. A decision she later appreciated as she watched Margaret’s plod through a loveless marriage to the libertine. Turns out Jean Pierre had only loved the status they could provide: a typical fortune-hunter.

With those memories playing on her mind, she made the difficult decision. Since her granddaughter has chosen to let passion steal her good senses there was nothing she could do, but have the lawyers redraft her will, there was no way she was letting a lecher touch one cent of her family’s money. What was it about French men that made the women in their family abandon all caution?


Written by Chioma I.N

In response to the mondaysfinishthestory flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara. The picture and the first sentence are provided and you have to complete the story in 100- 150 words. Click on this link to read others stories.

Thank you Marcy B. Ayanian for providing the picture.

Thank you for stopping by.

Change.

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

“The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode, many decades after and the area still reflects its name. A deprived area with the highest crime rates in the district, some people have gone as far as believing that residents from the cemetery have something to do with it.”

“You don’t think so.”

“Of-course I don’t think so. The area has been abandoned by the government for years, they’ve turned it to a site for dropping off derelicts and social rejects. What do you expect?”

“There’s talk about a renaming of the area, people are saying its bound to bring change.”

“Boy I’ve lived through different versions of promised change and this one has to be the most laughable. A name change is like putting plaster over a bullet wound without treatment; it ain’t gonna change nothing.”

“So glad I don’t live in their time; it’s a nightmare just watching them try to fight an inevitable end.”


Written by Chioma I.N

In response to the mondaysfinishthestory flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara. The picture and the first sentence are provided and you have to complete the story in 100- 150 words. Click on the link to read others stories.

Thanks Barbara for hosting it and for the picture.

Thank you for stopping by.

Lui’s biography.

2015-08-24 - Photo taken of an old photo in 2014 - Barbara W. Beacham
Copyright Barbara Beacham.

The family had no idea that little Luigi would grow up to be a comedian, no one saw that coming,”

“I mean even for a kid of Mafia descent Lui was meaner than any snake you’ve ever seen,”

“When he was five he put rat poison in the priests tea ‘cos he told his pa not to give little Lui a gun for his birthday. When the Mafia got busted everyone still had to make a living somehow; for some reason we couldn’t fathom Lui choose this path and boy did he know how to wipe out the house only this time he used comedy,”

“He often closed his shows with this joke … A friend asked me what kind of woman he should marry, I said to him marry a dumb one.Who needs a sidekick that questions every move?”

 “Guess the final joke was on us for disowning him, we like our sons famous, but not funny,” He said wearing a bittersweet smile.


Written by Chioma I.N

In response to the mondaysfinishthestory flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara. The picture and the first sentence are provided and you have to complete the story in 100- 150 words. Click on the link to read others stories.

Thanks Barbara for hosting it and for the picture.

Thank you for stopping by.

Inside looking out.

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

“I see absolutely everything, there is nothing hidden from me. Whilst you sleep I am there in your dreams. Your feeble attempts to escape me by rising in the morning is hysterical for as in sleep I am still with you,”

“I can change the future and recolor the past, my reach is infinite. I am invisible, but I control all that you see.  An ominous end awaits those who bid my dark side; a pathway of peace those who thread carefully. Do not try to apprehend me for like a slippery serpent I will escape you,”

“There is but one hope for you, to train me through the art of substitution empowered by a strong-will; the only way to turn the master into an obedient servant …'”


Written by Chioma I.N

In response to the mondaysfinishthestory flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara. The picture and the first sentence are provided and you have to complete the story in 100- 150 words. Click on the link to read others stories.

Thanks Barbara for hosting it and for the picture.

Thank you for stopping by.