Flash Fiction = one thousand words or less


Welcome to V-World, where your dear ones can enjoy their remaining days, in the way they wished they could have lived all of their lives. “

Linda and I were reading a brochure, which our father had just handed us to read.

“What on earth ever made you even consider going in to a retirement home Daddy,” I said beseechingly? “You know you can live with me or even Linda, you do not have to go into a home.”

“I agree with Shannon, I really do not want to see you go into one of those places either Dad,” Linda echoed my words with a tear in her eye.

“Now, now girls, I know both of you would have me in your homes, but you are young and need to live your lives unencumbered by an old man like me. In addition, I have been searching on the internet and I like the way this V-World sounds. Did you know that I could live the rest of my days as a young W.W. II spy if I want to? I was thinking I might want to choose the package where I can travel throughout the galaxies as a space ship commander. Just imagine, traveling from planet to galaxy to planet, seeing outer space in the body of a twenty-one year old man, to meet your mother again and then to live my life with her, the sky will be the limit for us…” His voice trailed off into nothing, and I could tell his thoughts were on my Mom and her memory.

Tears were running freely, unchecked, down his cheeks, onto the front of his freshly laundered plaid lumberjack style shirt. My father was seventy-eight years old and I treasured him as some would treasure the Hope Diamond. His tears and the thought of him giving up on life and going into a V-World, home for the elderly, broke my heart.

“Daddy please do not do this,” I pleaded.

“Daddy, please reconsider and stay with me for six months then stay with Shannon for six months and see if you would still want to go to V-World after a year.” Linda cajoled.

“Girls, I love you with all my heart, but the discussion is over. I have made up my mind. Now, let’s eat dinner and tomorrow morning, if you two want, you can go with me to V World, I need to fill out some papers and perhaps sign the contract.”

We stopped trying to talk to him about it. When our daddy said the discussion was over, it was over, we had learned the hard way throughout the years. My sister tried to keep the conversation light during dinner, but it was extremely hard to do.

The next morning we drove to the home.

The building was an architect’s dream, with its towering height and stately pillars. The home was on ten acres of lush green fertile ground with trees and gardens everywhere, it was magnificent. It was killing me on the inside and looking over at Linda; I knew she felt the same way.

“Just look at this beautiful place, girls, and you did not want me to come here.”

Opening the huge twelve-foot oak doors, we entered into what looked like a palace entry room. A starchy faced man in a three-piece suit regally walked briskly towards, us with an outstretched hand, which he offered to my father, he welcomed us.

“My name is Allen Wesley and you must be Mr. Jeffery K. Austin, of the Austin Research Facilities, welcome to V-World. I am quite sure you will be pleased with what we have to offer you here.”

I groaned inwardly and my sister made a small coughing noise in her throat. My father introduced us Mr. Wesley.

“Yes well, shall we step into my office, Mr. Austin?’

When we started to follow them, Mr. Wesley informed Linda and me that the paperwork would take around an hour to complete. He pointed to a garden lounge where we could wait. He politely dismissed us.

As we were walking across to the door Mr. Wesley had indicated, a man in a lab coat came out a door that I had not noticed earlier. Linda grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hall the man had come through, before the door had time to close.

“What are you doing, this is the wrong door?”

“Lower your voice Shannon. Did you not notice that this door does not have a knob to allow entry to it?” Linda said as she let the door close behind her.” I do not trust this place, I want to see what these so call V-World suites look like.”

There were only four doors, two on the left and two on the right, one of which we had just entered through. We chose the first door on the left. When I opened the door my sister and I were stunned into silence, we were speechless. There before us line after line, row after row, were what looked to be hundreds of people hooked up to tubes, wires, and cables, from every part of their bodies.

“Do you believe this, Linda?”

“So much for the royal suite, look at this place it is full of a bunch of skeletons with skin stretched over them. Maybe this is the discount room or something.”

“No it isn’t, look at this name tag, a Mr. R.W. Vanderbilt.”

We quickly snapped photos in all three rooms of the same disgusting sight, sent them to our fathers phone and left the forbidden area.

“Hi Daddy, are you finished for the day?”

“I sure am sweetheart.”

Turning and speaking with Mr. Wesley dad said, “I will be letting you know my decision, soon.”

“Do not take too long to make up your mind. We only have one royalty suite left.”

“Yes, would that be the same type of suite old Raymond Vanderbilt chose?”

“Ah yes, the very same.”

In the car, Dad said, “Thanks for the spy work girls, now start making those calls. Linda, call Thurston Vanderbilt first.”

"The Bar"

                                                                    " The Bar "

                                                                        Chapter 1

          “That’s about all I can stand this week.” Candace said, as she picked up the phone and dialed Sandra’s phones number.
          “Fifteen hundred dollars just to get my car fixed, what’s next. Never mind, forget I said that. ” She said, as she looked upward as if not wanting to provoke the forces that are.
          “Sandra, will you just be there, please.” When Sandra did not answer the phone, an answering service told Candace to leave a message at the sound of the beep, Candace just said she would call back later and hung up.
          “I hate answering machines.” Candace walked over to look out the window. Pushing the curtains aside, she peered through the glass to see rain soaked sidewalks, shimmering in the reflection of the streetlights.
          “The seventh of November, the worst week I have ever had. I am going out anyway. Bar night is bar night, even if I have to go alone."
          After Candace had her shower and was dressed, she stood for a long moment, to look in the mirror. Long shining black hung in natural waves draped over her left shoulder and midway down her back. Her gray silk blouse caressed an ample bust line and tapered with folds into a pair of size six black dress pants. Candace was satisfied with her body the way it was, but she thought it would not hurt her to gain a few pounds.
          Her face was another thing. She had  creamy llightly bronzed skin tone and the facial structure of a Polynesian princess, many people had told her, but all she saw was the small scar over her eyebrow and a nose that she thought was a bit too large. “Well, I guess it could be worse, after all, the bruises could be on my face.” She laughed quietly, as she left the bedroom went down the stairs, grabbing her purse off the kitchen cabinet, and then heading for the front door. When she locked the door behind her, she glared at the brand-new, one-hundred and forty seven dollar doorknob.

           When Candace got to her driveway, she walked up to the front tire, of her six-year-old royal blue, Toyota Corona, and kicked it. “Ouch.” She yelled, and promptly, with less force, kicked it again. “For that price, you had better work perfect for the rest of my life. You have cost me my life savings you know.” Growling in anger and pain, she got into to her car, closed the door, started it up, backed out of the driveway and headed for the bar.
           Candace had never been to the club, she was going to tonight, but Sandra had been trying to convince her to go with her for a month. They were supposed to go together tonight. “Oh well. Maybe she will meet me there later.” Candace shrugged and turned the radio on.
           She turned on the easy listening station, in hopes that it would help to calm her frayed nerves so that she might enjoy her night out. The drive to the club was blissfully uneventful.
           Pulling into the parking lot, Candace turned off her car, lights and got out. Looking up at the flashing neon sign that towered, on a post, over the parked cars, Candace began to laugh. “I get it now. When Sandra called this place the bar, she meant, ‘The Bar.’ Now that was a double entendre if I ever heard one.”

           Everyone turned to look at her, when she entered the bar. Candace felt a little shy and uncomfortable having so many looking her way. After a few moments, the buzz of conversation resumed.
          She knew was not a beautiful woman, but she was pretty in an exotic way. With long shiny black hair that came to the middle of her back and with her large round, charcoal, doe eyes and only twenty nine years old. She always had men looking at her. Her build, her friends told her, “was to die for.” The difference tonight was that everyone seemed to be staring, not looking. Candace straightened her back, and walked up to the bar.The bartender was drying the drink glasses when Candace approached the bar.
          What can I get you to drink?” He said, as he put down the bar towel.
          Candace was looking at the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her life. She felt the lower part of her abdomen start to tingle. This is so strange. Candace thought as she looked appraisingly at him. Why am I feeling so odd, this has never happened to me before? He was tall, at least six foot four with a lumberjack’s muscular build, sandy blonde-hair, not short, but at collar length. Candace decided that a strange feeling like the one she was having right now was worth investigating farther, at some other time. Not tonight, no, for tonight, she wanted nothing to do with men at all. Candace sat down on a stool.
          "I think I want a salty dog, make it easy on the salt and light on the dog, please.”
          The bartender nodded in response to Candace’s drink order. The Bar was starting to fill up and Candace thought the place would probably be full in another hour or so. Country music was playing on the old-time jukebox. There were sounds all around that implied people, overall, were celebrating the arrival of Friday.
          Candace wished she could say the same thing for herself. The bartender returned with her drink, and Candace paid him, said thank you and picked up her glass. When she had the glass about halfway to her mouth, someone jostled her arm causing her drink to go flying out of her hand directly onto the bartender. The bartender had a shocked look on his face. Candace was so embarrassed.
          “I’m so sorry, I-“Candace was interrupted by the drunken man who had bumped into her.
           “Oh baby, ta-night is your lucky night, I’mm the man of your dreams.” He said in his drunken slur. “You’ve never aad a man like me afore, you wan me now don’t-ch.”
          Candace was mortified. She closed her eyes and put her head in her hands.
          “What did I ever do to deserve this, tonight? Especially after the week I’ve had.” To the drunk she said “Go away, please, just go away." 
          “Leave the lady alone and go on home George.” The bartender said, as he started wiping up the spilled drink off the bar and himself. “Go on now.” He repeated when George showed no interest in leaving.
          “Aw-shucks, Stacks, I was jist uh sweet talkin her. Ain’t nuttin wrong wid me a doin that. Nuttin a ‘tall I tells ya.”
          With a mischievous look on his face, Stacks smiled and said, “If there isn’t anything wrong with it, then why is Mable’s face starting to turn red? And if I’m not mistaken, I would say that that has to be steam coming out of her ears.”
           Everyone at the bar turned to look behind George. Sure enough, Mable’s face was turning a deep red. She also appeared to have steam coming out of her ears. Of course, it was only an illusion caused by the bar’s lighting as well as the situation. Everyone, including Candace, started to laugh. Everyone, that is, except George and Mable. 
          Candace noticed that with the exception of the music playing in the background, there were no other sounds in the bar. Not one chair scraped the old hardwood floor, nor did she hear the tinkling sound of ice in a glass. Everyone had stopped doing whatever they were doing and all eyes were on George and Mable.
          George’s face slowly started draining of color. By the time he turned to see his wife, his face was deathly white...
          “M-M-Mable darlin” he stuttered. “I wasn’t doin nuttin…. Nuttin a ‘tall, sweetie, sugah-pie, honey-pie, dumpli-“ George’s words were abruptly cut off as Mable reached out, grabbed him by the ear, turned and left the bar, with George in tow and yelling, “Ouch, ouch, aw Mable, darlin, let go of me ear, all the way to the door. Mable never said a word.

           “Wow. That is one big woman. She must be six foot tall and I bet she weighs, at least one hundred pounds, more than George does. I sure wouldn’t want her angry with me.” The woman on the stool next to Candice said.
          “Hi, I’m Gloria James. Our bartender here is Stacks” She said as she reached out to shake Candace’s hand.
          ”I’m Candace Baker, nice to met you.”
          “Stacks handed Candace another drink, “this drink is on the house.” He offered with a smile.
          “No, that is not necessary I will pay for it. After all, it was not your fault.” Candace argued.
          “Don’t worry about it. I will just put it on George’s tab; Mable will be in tomorrow to settle the bill with me. She always does.”
          Stacks introduce himself to Candace. “I’m Stacy Chaney. Stacks, is what my friends call me. I’m the bartender and the owner of  'The Bar.'  I am sorry you had to meet George that way. George is a nice person, until he gets drunk. The best thing about what happened here tonight, is that old George will be so embarrassed the next time I see him.”
 Laughing, Candace introduced herself to Stacks and shook his hand. Stacks went back to pouring drinks.
          “Not only is he handsome, but he’s single too.” Gloria said, in a conspiratorial voice, as she leaned over towards Candace.
          “He is georgeous, and single too? But not tonight,I have declared men off limits, at least for a little while. I have had my fill of men this week.” Candace remarked.
          Laughingly, Gloria said, “If your week was as bad as what just happened with George tonight, then I understand.”
          “To tell you the truth Gloria, that was probably the best thing that happened this week.”            
          “You must be kidding. I am all ears if you would like to talk about it, and I would love to hear to your story”
          “Are you sure Gloria? If you would not mind listening, I really would appreciate having someone to talk to, or should I say, vent my frustrations on. My cat is so tired of hearing about it now, that she walks out of the room when she sees me coming."
           “Let’s find a table in the corner where we can be more comfortable, and you can tell me all about it.

                                                                           Chapter II (coming soon )


Poem "Grandpa "




I took a trip with Mama,

We went to see my Grandpa,

To a place, she called the home,

And he lived there all alone,

Come sit with me, my sweet girl,

Then in his lap, I did curl,

Now darling don’t look so sad,

Truly, not all is so bad,

When you really want to play,

Even on a rain soaked day,

When the clouds hide the sun,

And you want to have some fun,

Just travel to foreign lands,

Ride camels in distant sands,

Travel with the brothers Grimm,

With the Seven Swans you can swim,

There is a Secret Garden,

Mrs. Hodgson will let you in,

Let Jason take you to see,

The Golden Fleece in a tree,

How about a trip to Mars,

Just reach out and touch the stars,

There’s a man named Andersen,

Travel with him, you will grin,

To the Garden of Paradise,

Now, that trip was very nice,

Adventures in Wonderland,

Alice takes you by the hand,

Percy Jackson goes to school,

There he proves he is no fool,,

Fly the skies with Pegasus,

Mama will not even fuss,

There are many places to go,

                                                                      Books are the way to make it so.

I hope this poem will make you smile and you will want to share it with a child! (No poetry intended ) C.R. Moore

"The Game"

Hello again,
I find, to my dismay, I should have edited my story just a bit better. I found a couple of mistakes in it. Sorry about that. Oh well, I guess it goes to show that I am only human also. Boo, Hiss, Yuk! (Words borrowed from my college Government Professor.) Now you know something important about my flash Fiction site, YOU do not have to write perfect, just write. So in payment of my goofs, I the story, with corrections and post another story tomorrow. Remember, Write till your heart is content!

                                                                                The Game

“James, will you please listen to me? I am trying to tell you that when I went down to the store this morning, Mavis told me th-“

“Damn-it Helen, why on earth would I care what that old windbag and you talked about this morning? Every time you go to that store, you two gossip for over an hour. It’s a wonder either one of you get anything done at all. I want to sit here enjoy my chips, beer, watch the game and enjoy myself. Is that too much to ask from you? Just go in the kitchen and read one of those love books you like, after you cook dinner.”

Helen was fuming. She had endured the interruption with grace, the gossip remark had started her anger, but harping on her books… after all, only an idiot thought Lee Child’s “Jack Reacher” series was a love book. “Fine, enjoy yourself.” Helen left the room.

Hours later, the Dallas Cowboys won their game and James was a happy man. James swallowed the last of his beer from the six-pack that he had in the cooler. He looked at his watched and realized that it was after ten at night and Helen had never even told him dinner was ready. Now that he thought about it, he had not heard a sound coming from the kitchen, nor had he smelled food cooking the entire time he watched the game.

The kitchen was dark, as he walked into the room, James flipped the light on and saw nothing of dinner. The room was as spotless as if no one had ever prepared a meal there. The room had an odd cold feel to it, similar to the feeling of emptiness and the loneliness of being deserted and unloved. James could not leave the room quick enough.

“That’s the way of a woman. Punish a man just because he would rather watch a ball game instead of listening to her prattle on for hours about all the gossip she heard that day and the other rubbish women want to harp on all the time.” James muttered under his breath as he searched the house for Helen. He could not find her anywhere.

After searching everywhere, even the tool shed and garage, James stepped out front to see if Helens car was in the driveway. It was gone. James was satisfied with his thoughts of a vindictive wife. “Well we will just see about that. If Helen thinks I am going to worry about her and search all over the place for her, she had better think again. A man’s home is his castle and no one, not even a wife has the right to keep him from relaxing and enjoying it.” Ranting to himself all the way to the kitchen, James decided to see what there was in the refrigerator to eat.

The food he thought he had smelled cooking when he first came home from work was non-existing. James settled for a ham sandwich with the last slice of cheese he found in the bottom of the produce drawer. After angrily slathering entirely too much mayo and mustard on his sandwich, James grabbed a glass and fixed himself a glass of tea. He then went back into the living room, plopped down on the couch, sloshing tea from the glass, and stabbed at the remote controls trying to find something to watch on television.

Finding a movie that he had seen many times before, James tried to watch it. Between wiping the blobs of mustard and mayo of his shirt and pants, glancing at the clock every five minutes and ranting about the injustice of a wife who was insensitive to his needs or wants, James never saw the movie he had chosen to watch. Two hours later the movie was over and Helen was still not home. James turned the television off and paced the floors. He did not know whether he should be angry or worried, so he alternated between the two.

At two o’clock in the morning, James saw lights from a car turn into the driveway. Thank God, Helen was safe, James thought, and then he promptly became angry. He heard Helen’s keys in the kitchen door as she unlocked it. He heard the door close and then the sound of Helen locking the door..

James could not stand it any longer. He jumped up off the couch and stomped into the kitchen. There was Helen putting all kinds of covered dishes into the once almost empty refrigerator. If possible, James became angrier than he already was. “Where have you been?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. Is this how you decide to punish me?”

“Punish you, where would you get an idea like that? I simply did as you asked. Such a fuss over getting what you asked for in the first place.”

James sighed. “Helen please just tell me.”

“It is too late now James.”

“Are you saying that you are leaving me? Honey, I am sorry, I should not have been so hateful. I promise not to act that way again.”

“I am not leaving you, James. What I was trying to tell you earlier was that Mavis told me about a contest the radio station was having. I entered and won. So, I spent my evening in the box seats at the Cowboy Stadium, then afterwards I went to the Ranch and had barbecue with the Dallas Cowboys and their friends and families. It was an exciting evening. The signed football and food I brought home, is from them to you. I guess they felt sorry for you.” Helen kissed a speechless James, told him goodnight and went upstairs to bed.

James felt worse than ever, but that night he knew he had received what he deserved. Head hanging, shoulders slumped, he picked up the signed football, shook his head, turned out the light and headed for bed.

Flash Fiction = "The Game"

Hello everyone,

            I know you are interested in what this community is all about, or you would not be reading this now. So let me see if I can clear it up for you.

            Flash fiction is a fun way to create a short story and not spend a lot of time doing it. It consists of one-thousand words or less and gives you an opportunity to write until your heart is content. I have read many different ideas on what is required for flash fiction stories, from fifty-five words to one-thousand. I prefer one-thousand, so I will write up to the max words allowed and you may write the number of words you prefer in your stories. I will caution you that if you are using Flash-Fiction as practice for, one day, entering a contest, then you should work at not going over the limit. If you have any questions, I will try to answer them for you.
Write till your heart is content.
C.R. Moore 



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