Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: The Banshee #amwriting #writing #flashfiction 


Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW: 

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Credit: Barb CT

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Maizie stared at the neighbouring property to her parents cabin. For as long as she could remember, the property had been deserted. 

Growing up, Maizie and her two brothers would create possible stories about what happened to the people who lived in the ruins of the old cabin. 

“It was a shark, one as big as Jaws,” her younger brother Rupert said. 

“It had to be bigger than a shark and fiercer,” said her eldest brother Richard.

The possible stories continue until they were all three, young teenagers. 

“I dare you to go out to the haunted cabin,” Richard told Maizie. 

“Come on,”Rupert teased her.

Maizie thought she would show, both her brothers, she wasn’t afraid. “Fine I’ll go, but you two have to come with me. Bring the flashlights.” 

All three siblings crept out to the abandoned property at night. When they reached the cabin, a moaning wail made them all jump. 

“What was that?” Rupert asked.

Maizie could feel her palms sweat in fear as the wailing continued. 

At that moment, the banshee chose to sneak up behind them — a possibility which hadn’t occurred to Maizie and her brothers. 

The banshee appeared to float, and a large black cloak covered her knotted grey hair. Her eyes were black coals piercing their souls and her skin felt like crepe paper as the banshee touched all their faces. 

Richard said fearfully, “Banshees only come when a family member is about to die, what’s she doing here?”

The Banshee’s wails increased at Richard’s suggestion and she sucked the life out of all three siblings. Their young life forces were exactly what she required.  

Her haggish appearance lifted and a beautiful woman walked out of the ruins of the abandoned cabin, smiling at her now youthful appearance. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

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Sunday Photo Fiction: We All Look


Dressed in cut-off denim shorts and a black halter top, a slim figure with rounded breasts and hips, distracted men who passed by her at the race track.

Many females with their men, gave the woman dirty looks. Elma elbowed Nathaniel.

“I can’t help it,” Nathaniel complained. “It’s a biological instinct.”

“Yeah right,” said Elma is wife of thirty-years. 

“It’s true Elma. Men naturally stare at other woman, it’s an evolutionary thing.” Nathaniel said.

“Oh hell. Did you have to bring this up?” 

“Let me explain. Once men look they’re done. Even if in that moment we’re comparing a pretty lady to our wives, we don’t remember what woman we were looking at.” 

Elma muttered something under her breath.

“I’ve never been able to not look. Most guys would say the same, even our sons. But your average guy doesn’t want to be with a stranger he’s giving the once over,” Nathaniel said.

“We’re with our wives because we love them. Because we like being with them, even if their figures aren’t perfect, or they have stretch marks from babies, it doesn’t matter.”

Elma stopped walking. “I guess that makes sense. But why are you still checking out that woman? You’ve already seen how she looks?” Nathaniel mumbled something.

At the same time, local male strippers were signing posters for women at the race track. Elma shrieked, “I’ll be right back.” 

Returning, she peered at her signed poster and back at the shirtless muscular strippers with a smile on her lips.

 “Ahem,” Nathaniel said. 

Elma smiled at Nathaniel and clasped his hand in hers.

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Sorry for the lateness on this prompt. I’m not into race car driving and had to think of a way to approach this picture. Thanks to Alistair Forbes who hosts SPF.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.