Friday Flash Fiction - A New Home

A New Home

I don’t like it here. 

Mummy says this is our new home and we’re staying, but I don’t like it. It smells funny, not like our old house. I used to have my own room and now I have to share with my brother, Dan. We have new beds called bunker beds. I don’t like bunker beds because when Dan moves I can hear the bed creaking and I’m scared he’s going to come crashing down on top of me. I asked Mummy if I could sleep on top, but she said it was too high and I might fall out. Dan’s only one year older than me, it’s not fair he gets to sleep on the top. 

I find Bertie buried under my Angry Birds duvet and squeeze him a little to let him know I’m awake. He’s awake now too. I whisper to him that I don’t like it here and he agrees. He always agrees with me. He has fuzzy green hair and big black eyes. 

I’m thirsty, so I take Bertie in one hand and inch slowly down the dark corridor. I can see light from under the living room door, so I know Mummy is watching TV. I hear the strange voices getting louder and louder. 

…A new campaign has been launched today by animal rights activists who have been protesting against this barbaric practice for many years. Some viewers may find the following images disturbing. 

Just as I push the door to the new living room open, I see on the TV a whale being sliced open and all the blood and guts spill out of it. I drop Bertie and scream. 

‘Matthew,’ Mummy says, jumping off the sofa and putting her arms around me. ‘What are you doing out of bed?’ 

‘I couldn’t sleep. I really don’t like the new bunker beds.’ 

‘They’re called bunk beds. A bunker is…something else. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to get used to it.’ 

I look at the TV again. Mummy walks over and turns it off. 

‘And I’m thirsty.’ 

‘I’ll go heat you some milk.’ 

‘With chocolate in it?’

‘No, Matty, it’s too late for hot chocolate.’ 

‘But Daddy-’

Mummy does a sigh. ‘Daddy’s not here, is he?’

‘Is it because he’s living with Auntie Sharon?’

‘That woman is not your auntie. She’s, well, let’s not go into that now.’ 

I know I’m going to cry and don’t want to. Instead I look for Bertie, but can’t find him and that makes me want to cry even more. ‘I can’t find Bertie.’ 

‘Your tennis ball?’

‘Bertie’s not a tennis ball. He’s Bertie.’ 

Look, there he is.’ Mummy points to a wall in the living room where Bertie is lying facing the wall. 

‘Bertie!’ I race over and pick him up. 

Mummy takes my hand. ‘C’mon, let’s go get you some hot milk.’ 

‘Okay,’ I say, and slowly follow her into the kitchen. 

©2014 Laura Besley

Flash Fiction Diary  

It's taken me a little while to get going this January, but hopefully this will be the start of regular blogging again. This piece was written for a competition and had to include the words: bunker, animal rights and tennis ball. Unfortunately it didn't get very far in the competition. 

My first collection of flash fiction, taken from the previously published 'Flash Fortnightly' collaboration with Artipeeps, will be available soon. Here's a sneaky peak at the front cover...

Friday Flash Fiction - Waiting

Waiting

Standing in the shadows of the granite wall, Thomas was waiting. Maya was late. Her art class finished at nine-thirty and she should already be exiting through the heavy oak door of the local community centre. Others were streaming out with pads and pencils in their hands, chattering excitedly after their evening’s work had finished. But nowhere could Thomas see the tall girl with short curly hair. His tall girl with short curly hair.

Thomas pulled his mobile phone out of his trouser pocket. He pressed a button, illuminating the screen. Nine-forty. Where the bloody hell was she? He dialled her number. It rung once and then went to voice mail. No point in leaving a message. He debated with himself about going inside to get her, but he quickly dismissed that idea as she might reject him. Again. In front of everyone else.

Eventually, at nine-forty-nine she was there, in front of the building, her blue and green checked bag slung over her right shoulder. No doubt there would be another new sketch inside.

Thomas stepped forward into the pale light of the overhead streetlight. ‘Maya,’ he said quietly.

She spun round and smiled. ‘Dad!’ She hugged him in front of her classmates.

He felt a warm sensation in his stomach spread throughout his entire body. ‘Let’s go, honey. I’m double-parked.’

Laura Besley

Flash Fiction Diary  

This piece was originally published on Artipeeps in July 2013 (Flash Fortnightly #18).  

I've decided to take part in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) again this year. The aim is to write 50,000 words towards a novel, or in my case towards a collection of short stories, within the month of November. 

Today is day one of Nanowrimo! Luckily on a Friday I only have one class, so this morning I'll be dedicating to getting those first 2,000 words written. If you write every day, you (only!) need to write 1,666 words. However, I have three heavy teaching days when I already know that I'll struggle to write much, if at all. Therefore, I really have to write more on the days that I am writing. Fingers crossed and I'll keep you posted! 

Friday Flash Fiction - A Bright New Beginning

A Bright New Beginning

She wore bright, striped tights; the almost fluorescent rings going up up up her legs until they disappeared behind her oh-so short denim mini skirt. She wore flat black ballerina pumps which were pounding fast on the almost empty pavement in Aberdeen. A double-decker bus rattled past and stopped at the end of the road to let no-one off, and no-one got on either. Her ipod – on shuffle – jumped to Paolo Nutini’s ‘Pencil Full of Lead’, and with a smile on her face, she upped her pace yet again. Today is a new beginning, she thought, a bright new beginning. 

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

I've decided to take two-three months off blogging, so I won't be posting (apart from maybe the odd one or two things) in July, August and possibly September also. This is for a couple of reasons. The main one is time. Blogging, although I love it, takes up a lot of my time and I want to use this time to focus purely on new writing and improving old writing. Also, over the next couple of months I'm going to busy with Summer School, I'm going on holiday and my mum is visiting. 

So, thank you all for reading so faithfully. Hope you all have a wonderful summer, or winter if you're in the southern hemisphere!  

Flash Fortnightly will continue through July and August. FF #17 is kind of sad, but kind of happy too. I see it as an uplifting piece, so I hope you do too. Click here for The Great Escape. 

Friday Flash Fiction - The Nameless Saxophonist

The Nameless Saxophonist

Sometimes I wonder if I’d stopped that day how differently my life might have turned out. He saw me. Definitely. Our eyes met as he cycled out of the crowds of Saturday shoppers and I cycled to the market for cheese, bread and flowers. I’d seen him before, his mop of blond hair falling into his eyes and I wanted to tell him, amongst many other things, that he badly needed a haircut. 

The first time I saw him he was playing his saxophone on the cobbled streets of The Hague, eyes closed in concentration with a battered open case at his feet for passers-by to throw in the odd coin or two. Along with a small gathering of people I stood watching him as he belted out tune after tune, his lungs endlessly refilling to allow the delivery of strong round sounds. He saw me too, I know he did. I saw myself through his eyes: too tall, too skinny, arms too long for my tall, skinny body. I turned and walked away before he got the chance to talk to me. 


That time I saw him cycling I know he looked back because I did too and our eyes met again. But I kept cycling. I’ll never know if he spun his bike around and followed me. If he did, I was long gone. Stupid. Every time I visit my aunt in The Hague I think about him. I never even knew his name. 

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

Last week I got a mention in a local Hong Kong newspaper, the South China Morning Post! It was as part of a book review for the Hong Kong Writers Circle's latest anthology, Of Gods and Mobsters. Click here for the link. 

Flash Fortnightly #16 is a previously published piece from my blog. It was popular, which is why I decided to republish it with Artipeeps! Click here for Down the Hill. 

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The challenge to write a piece a day is officially over. I'm so in love with flash fiction that I'll keep on writing it and hopefully still have a piece a week to share with you (my wonderful readers). I would like to dedicate some time to reworking older pieces as well as more time to writing longer pieces. Watch this space!  

Friday Flash Fiction - Not a Day to Remember

Not a Day to Remember

She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t. No matter how hard she tried, it just wasn’t possible. She’d lost count of the amount of times she’d tried and then failed yet again. How was it possible that she just couldn’t make it work?

‘Sandra?’

She jerked her head up. ‘Yes?’

‘Are you in there?’

She could just picture him standing outside the bathroom door in his three-day old boxer shorts and grey vest. Soon he would rap the door with his hairy knuckles. 

‘Tap, tap, tap.’ 

There it is. Soon he’ll start shouting. 

‘Sandra. Come out this minute.’ 

She turned the taps off and the quiet filled the small dank room for a few seconds. 

‘Sandra!’

She pulled the dressing gown tight around her and felt inside the pocket for her mobile phone. She quickly splashed some water on her face and reached for the striped towel, hanging on the back of the bathroom door. 

‘Finally. For fuck’s sakes. What have you been doing in there?’ 

‘Just showering.’ 

‘Christ, woman, you’d think you hadn’t showered for a year the amount of water you’ve just used. Good job we ain’t on a meter.’ 

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. 

‘Well, piss off then,’ he said, pushing her out of the way. 

She stood in the hallway looking at all the closed doors, not knowing which way to turn. One day she would send that text, or make that call, to help her get out of this miserable situation, but today was not that day. She walked to the living room, plonked herself down in a tattered armchair and flicked on the TV. 

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

The challenge to write a piece a day is officially over. I'm so in love with flash fiction that I'll keep on writing it and hopefully still have a piece a week to share with you (my wonderful readers). I would like to dedicate some time to reworking older pieces as well as more time to writing longer pieces. Watch this space!  

This week I got a mention in a local Hong Kong newspaper, the South China Morning Post! It was as part of a book review for the Hong Kong Writers Circle's latest anthology, Of Gods and Mobsters. Click here for the link. 

Flash Fortnightly #16 is a previously published piece from my blog. It was popular, which is why I decided to republish it with Artipeeps! Click here for Down the Hill. 

Friday Flash Fiction - week 45

Beyond the Thin Blue Line

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light

That split the night

And touched the sound of silence.

 - Simon and Garfunkel, The Sound of Silence

I wish I could tell my children not to fear death. That it is, in actual fact, very peaceful. When it happened to me I’d been ill for a long time, had lost hair and gained weight in equal measure. A hot ball of fire had settled in my stomach and every time I opened my mouth little parts of it broke off, raced up and out in the form of words which stung like a swarm of angry bees. I did manage to say goodbye, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. 

People who believe in stuff like this tell you that when you go, you drift up slowly but I didn’t. I raced up, up, up and for a moment I enjoyed it: being able to move quickly again, the rush of wind in my face, high on the pain-free existence. Then the silence encompassed me and I saw the light, bright and blue like neon. The thin blue line around the earth, which is where I’m balancing between life and death, between earth’s atmosphere and what is beyond. I don’t have long here. Goodbye again. Farewell. 

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

May is National Short Story Month. I've joined A.M. Harte's Senseless Challenge: 

We have five senses.
May has five Fridays.
Each Friday is dedicated to one of the senses.

The schedule is:

May 03: Sight
May 10: Sound
May 17: Smell
May 24: Taste
May 31: Touch

There are no rules. You can take part for one week or all five. You can write about not having that week’s sense or only having it. So...here goes! 

Flash Fortnightly #13 is Pot of Gold. A rather dark tale with colours to cheer it up (a little). Click here for the link. 





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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Friday Flash Fiction - week 44

Amber’s Unseeable Eyes

One of the most remarkable things about Amber Scott is that her eyes are the colour of the deep yellow resin used to make jewellery and ornaments. Only minutes after a long and arduous labour her new-born eyes flickered open. Her mother gasped and said, ‘Her eyes are the exact colour of my grandmother’s pendant. We have no choice, we simply must call her Amber.’

‘Whatever you wish, my darling,’ her father said, planting a firm kiss on his wife’s sweaty brow. 

But the amber eyes couldn’t see. Not like other eyes at least. Amber’s eyes didn’t see ordinary things like where the furniture in a room is, or the oncoming traffic on a road. Amber’s eyes saw unseeable things like approaching hurricanes, gales and storms at sea. 

Of course no-one believed her, thinking that she was having the dreams and nightmares that children have. When she predicted the great storm of ’87, saying she’d seen fences being blown out of gardens, roof tiles being ripped from houses and small animals being tossed about as if they were toys, her mother book an appointment with a psychiatrist. 

Car roofs of every colour formed a long queue in front of their ten year old orange Ford Escort. Her mother was furiously tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. ‘We’re going to be late for Dr. Lindhoff,’ she said and flicked on the radio.  

‘We are interrupting this programme with an emergency weather report. Winds of up to a hundred miles per hour have been forecast and we urge everyone to go home immediately.’

Her mother turned to look at her daughter who was strapped into the back seat of the car. She looked at her pale skin and long fingers, her blond wavy hair and the outfit she’d picked for her that she thought would make a good impression on the renowned doctor. 

‘See, Mummy. I told you.’ 

Her mother wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘Yes, darling. You did.’ 

‘Don’t cry, Mummy.’ 

She gripped her daughter’s hand. ‘No, darling. I won’t. Let’s go home, shall we?’

‘Yes, please. Otherwise we might die.’ 

‘Okay, sweetie. I believe you.’

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

May is National Short Story Month. I've joined A.M. Harte's Senseless Challenge: 

We have five senses.
May has five Fridays.
Each Friday is dedicated to one of the senses.

The schedule is:

May 03: Sight
May 10: Sound
May 17: Smell
May 24: Taste
May 31: Touch

There are no rules. You can take part for one week or all five. You can write about not having that week’s sense or only having it. So...here goes! 

Flash Fortnightly #13 is Pot of Gold. A rather dark tale with colours to cheer it up (a little). Click here for the link. 

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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Friday Flash Fiction - week 42

Words

He wasn’t tall, only a little taller than me, with short grey hair. His eyes were as blue as the Indian Ocean. I hadn’t seen that colour since I left Bangalore to go to boarding school when I was eight. 

“Morning Ma’am,” he said, in a heavy Texan accent. 
“Morning.” 
“I’ve moved in next door,” he said, pointing at the three-bedroom house to the left of ours, “so I thought I’d come and say hello.” He stuck out his hand. “Frank.” 
“Nice to meet you Frank,” I said, shaking his hand. “Beatrice, but everyone calls me Bee.” 
“If you don’t mind, Ma’am, I’ll stick with Beatrice as it’s such a beautiful name.” 

And that was it. 

As a self-employed fiction writer Frank was at home a lot and we met most mornings for coffee. We talked about travelling the world, modern art and living outside of your country of birth; all the things my husband knew nothing about and had no interest in. 

***

Two years after meeting Frank, almost to the day, I saw removal men entering his house. There was a knock on the back door and he came in just like it was any other day. “Just thought I’d drop by,” he said. “Before heading off.” 
“But I’ve made coffee.” 
He took two steps towards me. “Beatrice.” 
I stepped back towards the counter. It was as if something was clawing at the back of my throat. “Where are you going?” I asked. But I already knew the answer. 
“Back to the U.S.” 
“Why…why didn’t you tell me before?” 
He reached out to touch my arm. “I couldn’t.” 
“Will you be back?” I looked up and met his eye. 
He held my gaze. “No.” 
A gentle wave of seasickness rose up inside and threatened to capsize me. “I think you should go now.” 
“Beatrice?” 
“Please go. Have a safe journey.” 
“Beatrice?” 
“Go! Get out!” 

He left, closing the back door gently behind him and I was left fighting the rocking of the waves. A sea of tears welled up and spilled out.  

Hours later I got up off the kitchen floor, made a fresh pot of coffee and splashed cold water onto my face. I noticed a gift-wrapped package next to the sink and tore off the silver and pink paper. 

“His book. Of course,” I muttered. There was a photo of him on the back of the book. I supposed it would be the only one I would ever have of him. I opened the book and my heart stopped. 

I dedicate this book to Beatrice, a woman too beautiful – inside and out – to be known      merely as Bee. With all my love, Frank. 

I ran from the kitchen to his house, but it was locked and empty.   

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

This is an older piece, from 14th September 2012 to be precise, and to be honest I can't any longer remember what inspired me to write it. Currently I'm watching Jewel in the Crown and the mention of the Indian Ocean seems a good reason to feature this story this week. 

Flash Fortnightly #11 is based on a true, yet tragic, story. Click here for My Wedding Day. 

Of Gods and Mobsters is the latest anthology from the Hong Kong Writers Circle, edited by SCC Overton. 
Classical gods and heroes. Men and women of myth, legend and folklore. Characters from the greatest 19th and 20th century novels. All of them relocated, reimagined and retold in this collection of short stories and poetry. 
I have a story in here and wrote a modern day version of Aladdin. 

imprint 12 (the annual anthology of Women in Publishing Society) was launched on Friday 15th March and as mentioned before, I was asked to read my piece of flash fiction, Fractious Heat. I was incredibly nervous, but as I had practised a few times with my lovely husband, I think it went well. I got a good reaction from the crowd, which was a real boost! 
As always, it's an absolute thrill to see my work in print. As well as the piece of flash fiction, I also submitted a piece of non-fiction, Aspects of Home.  





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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Friday Flash Fiction - week 41

A Modern Arrangement

“When Lance announced he had a mistress and she was pregnant, I was faced with two choices,” Vivian said. “Leave or stay. It really was as simple as that.”
“What did you do?”
“Oh, I stayed. We came to an arrangement. He lived with me Monday to Friday, to keep up the pretence, and at the weekends he went to her and the baby.” 
Sylvia quietly stirred half a spoonful of Demerara sugar into her skinny cappuccino.   
“I know, I know. You’re thinking: how could I do it.” 
“To be honest, yes.” 
“Well, it’s not like I really loved him much in the first place.” 
“No?”
“No, not really. We rarely had sex. Never laughed much together. In all honesty, I think I was in love with the idea of being in love, without actually having a clue what it was all about.” 
Sylvia nodded. “I’ve heard that before.” 
“Lance and I started dating at Harvard and when we graduated it was more or less expected that we’d marry. So we did.”
Sylvia replaced the coffee cup into its saucer. “Gosh.” 
“I suppose he fell in love with her. In a way I can’t blame him. She was beautiful.” 
“Really?”
“Oh yes, no denying it. I kept my head in the sand for quite a while, but found a picture of her once.”  
“Have you ever met her?” 
Vivian shook her head. “God, no! We didn’t discuss her. Ever. Or the baby. That is, until recently, when he told me he was leaving me.” 
“Oh Vivian.” Sylvia reached out and took her hand. 
“And not for her, but for another Asian woman. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

This conversation is based on a true story, with a lot of imaginary details thrown in. 

Flash Fortnightly #11 is a piece about love, but a different kind of love. Click here for Dreams. 

imprint 12 (the annual anthology of Women in Publishing Society) was launched on Friday 15th March and as mentioned before, I was asked to read my piece of flash fiction, Fractious Heat. I was incredibly nervous, but as I had practised a few times with my lovely husband, I think it went well. I got a good reaction from the crowd, which was a real boost! 
As always, it's an absolute thrill to see my work in print. As well as the piece of flash fiction, I also submitted a piece of non-fiction, Aspects of Home.  





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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.

200 Stories...and counting

As many of you know last year, on 4th May 2012, I embarked on an adventure. A fiction adventure: to write one piece of flash fiction per day. For those of you who are visiting my site for the first time, flash fiction is really short, usually ranging from 100-1000 words. 

May - It started out really well and I wrote a piece a day. Some were okay, others not, but I was writing and that was the main thing. I put the 'best of the week' up onto my blog and people started leaving some really encouraging comments. 
June - I started to struggle a little, so decided to cut it down to five a week (Monday to Friday). 
July - I took most of July off as I was back in England visiting friends and family. 
August - It was summer school at work and for those of you who are teachers, you know what this means! We took a four-day trip to Bali and I wrote every day whilst I was there and found myself fascinated by the country and its people. 
September - I discovered FridayFlash.org - a great website for Flash fictioneers. Through this website I've met lots of wonderful and supportive fellow flash fiction writers. 

October - I was extremely excited to be contacted on twitter by Artipeeps - a UK based website for all things arty - and asked if I'd be interested in writing flash fiction for them. 

November - Flash Fortnightly on the Artipeeps website was launched.  
December - With the end of term looming and many parent presentations to do, as well as being tired from a long semester of teaching, I found writing quite a slog. 
January - Started off slowly, but once I got going I found that I was able to write quite a lot. 
February - I was lucky enough to be able to take a holiday in Cambodia in February and that influenced a lot of my writing in February. 
March - I've just written story number 200! 

I'm absolutely in love with flash fiction and I've even started writing micro fiction (up to 100 words). I never thought I'd take to short pieces, but I guess you don't know these things until you try them. While there are no hard and fast rules about writing, I think we all agree that writing often is good. Writing every day is the best and even if you don't have much time, 30 minutes a day is better than no minutes a day. I think, I hope, that writing so regularly has helped me develop as a writer. 

Friday Flash Fiction - week 38

This week I'm going to start with the blurb I usually put in Flash Fiction Diary because I really hope that people read it. Yesterday was World Book Day and I really hope you have the time to take a look at their website and offer support to them or Book Aid International. After looking at these two websites yesterday, I tried to imagine my life without books. I couldn't. This week's flash fiction was inspired by that thought. 
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The Power of Words

'What's this?'
'It's a book.' 
'Booook,' he said slowly, trying the words out on his tongue. 
'That's right.' 
'Do you eat it?'
'No, no,' he chuckled. 'You read the words.' 
'Woords?'
He pointed at a page, a paragraph, a sentence; words. 'They tell you a story.' 
'Those black and white things can talk?'
He shook his head. 'No. You read and in your head you make a story.' 
'Why?'
'Stories make your life better.' 
'Food makes your life better.' 
'Well, yes, that too. Food is a basic need like water, air, somewhere to sleep. Stories are the next level up.' 
'Hmm.'
'But some people think stories are a basic need.' 
'Why?'
'Reading a story can change your life.' 
'How?'
'The message is really strong. Or the magic overpowers you.' 
'Hmm.'
'Let me read one to you and you'll see.' 
They sat down together, the old man and the young boy. Together they turned the pages, read the words and went on a journey afar. 

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

Spag Bol is a simple story of a couple preparing dinner for friends. Or is it? You'll have to read on to find out. Click here for Flash Fortnightly #9 - Spag Bol.




News: As mentioned previously, in March this year I'll be featured in IMPRINT, the annual anthology of Women in Publishing Society. Also, the committee have asked me to read my piece at the launch party on 15th March. Very honoured and excited to have been asked. Despite getting up to talk in front of my students every day, reading in public makes me extremely nervous. I can only hope it goes as well as last time. I'll keep you posted!   
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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Friday Flash Fiction - week 37

U is for Unconditional

‘You just couldn’t wait, could you?’ 
Tim took a sip of his beer. 
‘I saw you talking to that woman at the first opportunity.’ 
‘You were on the phone.’ 
‘I saw you eyeing her up as soon as we came into the pub.’ 
‘I didn’t.’ 
‘You did. That’s why you asked for a seat at the bar, didn’t you? Cos the seat next to her was free?’ 
‘She was here with someone else if you hadn’t noticed.’ 
‘Since when has that ever stopped you?’ 
‘Christ almighty. Enough.’ 
‘Why don’t you just say it?’
‘Say what?’
‘Go on, say it. You know.’ 
‘I won’t.’ 
‘I dare you.’ 
He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘I love you.’ 
‘Not that.’ She shrugged him off. ‘You don’t mean it anyway.’ 
‘How can you say that? We’ve been together five years and you don’t believe I love you?’ 
‘You might’ve done once, but you can’t anymore.’ 
‘Oh really? Why don’t you tell me why I don’t love you anymore?’ 
‘You just can’t.’ 
‘Because you’ve had surgery?’ 
‘Yes.’
‘Because you look different now?’
‘Yes.’ 
‘Because you feel less sexy?’
‘Yes.’ 
‘Well, let me tell you one thing and that’s this little thing called love. It’s unconditional. Unconditional. I’ll love you no matter what.’
‘But you could have someone younger and prettier and sexier.’ 
‘Shh.’ He placed his fingers on her mouth. ‘But then I’d never get to kiss your lips again. Or stroke your hips. Or squeeze your bum. Or hear you laugh. I wouldn’t want to be without those things.’ 
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ 
‘I’m sorry.’ 
‘Don’t be. Now, let’s order.’ 

Laura Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

This piece was inspired by a couple we saw sitting at an adjacent table to ours whilst on holiday in Cambodia last month. I have absolutely no idea what their back story is (I made that bit up!), but she took a phone call during dinner and he looked a bit bored. Initially I had a different idea in mind for the direction of this story, but my pencil thought otherwise! 

I love travelling and am lucky enough to be able to do that. Sometimes I wonder at the impact mass tourism has on the locals of those popular destinations. Read on for Confessions of an Ageing Tourist.



News: As mentioned previously, in March this year I'll be featured in IMPRINT, the annual anthology of Women in Publishing Society. Also, the committee have asked me to read my piece at the launch party on 15th March. Very honoured and excited to have been asked. Despite getting up to talk in front of my students every day, reading in public makes me extremely nervous. I can only hope it goes as well as last time. I'll keep you posted!   
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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Friday Flash Fiction - week 28

The End or the Beginning

As Emma was biting her nails at two a.m she looked furtively at her husband who was sleeping in their bed. She’d thought about this moment a thousand times, but now that it was here, she was unsure what to do. He snored, turned over and she slowly, quietly let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. 

When they got married three years ago, she’d felt like the luckiest woman alive. Every word of that old cliché was true. Neil was earning good money and had insisted she give up work. Initially thrilled, she soaked in the luxury of time. Soon she lost contact with old colleagues and friends with whom she had nothing to talk about. She spent her days gazing out of the window or willing the phone to ring.  

She tiptoed out of the bedroom, her heart pounding like an African drum in her chest, and quietly closed the door behind her. Thick piled carpets swallowed the sound of her movements. Creeping down the corridor she imagined his large body filling the door frame and asking, “Where are you going?” “To the bathroom,” she’d reply and then she’d have to get back into bed.

Looking back it had already started before the wedding. The subtle criticisms, the odd aggressive outburst. The signs had been there. 

The black and white cups that she had washed up before bed were standing on the draining board. It had taken her a long time to realise that the hot chocolate Neil kindly made for her before bed every night contained two little sleeping pills. She prodded and poked her bruised face, trying to remind herself how much it hurt.

When they moved into this flat he had installed another lock on the front door. “You can never be too careful!” he’d said, forgetting to give her the key week after week, month after month until she stopped asking for it. 

Tonight was the night as Neil had left his keys on the kitchen table instead of locking them inside his bedside cabinet. Most nights she welcomed sleep, but not tonight. The cold enveloped her, but she felt nothing. Numb to the core.

L. Besley

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Flash Fiction diary

This week saw the third installment of Flash Fortnightly on the Artipeeps website. Click here for A Burnt Orange Sari, inspired by a photo I saw on facebook. I don't know the woman, but the sari was beautiful and I had that in mind when I wrote the piece. 


This week I set up a facebook page and if you could 'like' the page, I'd be very grateful! Click here for Laura Besley Writer. 

I've also stepped, rather gingerly, into the 21st century and have set up a twitter account! If you'd like to follow me, I can be found bumbling my way through this technology @laurabesley 
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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count. 

On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.  

Thanks, as always, for reading.