Tag Archives: Flash fiction

Eye Wonder

Posted on October 24, 2018 by Jan Morrill

“It’s an eye,” he said, looking up. I snickered. “What? No way.” Somber and serious, he nodded. “Yep. It’s watching us. Always has been.” “Whose eye is it then?” Wait. Was I actually considering his preposterous claim? “Theirs. They’re watching … Continue reading →

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Hunting Season

Posted on June 13, 2018 by Jan Morrill

We watch each other in this sanctuary, this quail and I, prisoners of lives into which we were born. The bird is free to fly away, to go where he pleases. But he has surely heard the gun fire, watched … Continue reading →

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Two Green Hearts

Posted on May 23, 2018 by Jan Morrill

One co-worker gawks. “That’s your anniversary present?” Another snickers. “How many years did you say you’ve been married?” “Fifteen,” I answer, admittedly a bit embarrassed. I open the card from my husband. The beauty of roses fades with time But … Continue reading →

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Friday Fictioneers: Dreaded Words

Posted on April 11, 2018 by Jan Morrill

“Wait ‘til your father gets home!” I’m not sure what I’ve done this time, but something tells me it has to do with the baseball I just hit. “How many times have I told you not to play ball so … Continue reading →

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Stumped

Posted on April 4, 2018 by Jan Morrill

Stumped Blurry-eyed and half-awake, she sipped her coffee and stared at the photo, finding it interesting, yet troubling. Was this the one that would stump her? Her thoughts drifted like leaves tossed in a chill wind, her mind, a blank … Continue reading →

Posted in fictioneers, writing | Tagged , , , , | 24 Comments