Finish Off Fridays: The Summons #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting FOF. 

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Credit: Lorraine

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“I had never been summoned to Number 208 [by the park] before; I nervously adjusted my coat . . .” A person could book a pick-up online or by phoning into FedEx but you couldn’t summon a particular delivery person, could you? 

“April, it means what I said,” Becky from the warehouse told me on the phone, “I’m not being rude, the lady who lives there wanted you, specifically, at her home.” 

The door was open when I arrived. “I’m here,” a frail female voice rasped. 

Walking into the house I heard the respirations of a woman on a ventilator. She was all hollows and sallow skin. Her hair was whispy white and thinning. Eyes the color of blue-bells greeted me but they were bloodshot. 

The woman grasped a yellow envelope with a trembling hand. She shook the envelope and a key dropped out. 

Her shaking fingers held it out, “For me?” I asked. 

I took the key staring at it in confusion; it appeared ancient. As I examined it I heard the woman gasp something. I moved closer to her and held her hand attempting to hear her strained voice. She shook her head with a ragged sigh and breathed her last.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Over Troubled Waters #amwriting #paranormal #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW:

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Credit: Joy Pixley

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“When you’re down and out / When you’re on the street / When evening falls so hard /I will comfort you (ooo) / I’ll take your part, oh, when darkness comes / And pain is all around / Like a bridge over troubled water / I will lay me down / Like a bridge over troubled water / I will lay me down.” – “Bridge Over Troubled Water” – Simon and Garfunkel 

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Wes called up to a young woman sitting on the bridge ledge. 

He gulped and climbed up beside her, assessing her. She shook her head, “I’m not here to jump, it’s only peaceful up here.” 

He settled beside the woman on edge. “I’m Wes,” he said, “I’m not a fan of heights. I don’t understand how you can sit here and find it tranquil.” 

She laughed, “I’m Becca, Wes. Scoot back and look at everything from this gorgeous view.” 

“See, the moon’s a giant light in the sky illuminating everything so the bridge doesn’t feel eerie at night. Now, look at the water below you.” 

He peered down: “I see darkness, turbulence, and fear. I see a river where too many people have jumped and drowned in.”

“You see this bridge as dangerous Wes. But without the bridge, no one would get across to the otherside. Without people in our life–our friends, loved ones, God, helpful strangers –we wouldn’t make it through troubled waters.

“Yeah, I know Becca,” he said.”It’s like the song by Simon and Garfunkel.” 

“Sometimes, we help ourselves, with a little effort.” 

“What?” 

“You stopped yourself, having every intention of jumping before you saw me,” Becca said gently. 

You saved me Becca,”  Wes admitted. 

She shook her head and smiled, disintegrating. He gasped, carefully, moving off the ledge onto the bridge’s walkway. 

Wes ran home; he had hope.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.