Tag Archives: #flashfiction

The Measly Jar of Motivation – Someone Else’s Secret (flash fiction)

Posted on November 28, 2023 | Leave a comment

Gentle waves lapped at the pillars beneath the fishing pier. The pier stretched out in front of her, reaching out towards the watery horizon. As was her want, she had climbed up onto one of the concrete blocks at the base of one of the pillars, choosing one free from seaweed that was catching the early morning sun. The first hour after sunrise was her favourite time of day. All around her the world was wakening up. Off to her left, she could see a heron, wading leisurely through the shallows. The beach was virtually deserted, only the occasional fisherman standing on the shoreline.

It was a peaceful scene. A perfect picture of tranquillity.

With her sketchpad balanced on her knee and two spare pencils skewered through her messy hair bun, she worked swiftly to capture an image of the heron before it took flight.

A voice, an irate voice, shattered her concentration. Looking up from her drawing, she spotted a guy with shoulder length tousled blonde hair, wearing a dark suit with the trousers rolled up, wading through the water between the pillars. His black leather shoes were sticking out of his suit jacket pockets.

“It was our fucking wedding night, and you fucked my best man!” he ranted as he walked between two pillars a few metres from where she sat unseen.

He paused his stride while the other person, his bride, replied.

Slamming his fist off one of the pillars, he fumed, “Screw you! I’ll be speaking to my lawyer to get this farce of a marriage annulled. Have a nice life, Elizabeth.”

Ending the call, he hurled his phone out into the ocean.

Sitting in stunned silence, she watched as the rejected bridegroom headed off down the beach away from her. His aura was screaming hurt and anger around him.

A strange feeling crept over her. She felt as though she had intruded on a private moment for the stranger, a life changing moment. A moment that had left her with the feeling of carrying someone else’s secret. Part of her wanted to run after him and tell him it would all work out, but would it?…

While she had been distracted, the heron had flown away.

The scene from the beach was still eating at her as she opened up her coffee shop an hour later. Her overactive imagination had woven all sorts of scenarios around the snippet of conversation, but she still felt guilty about accidentally overhearing it in the first place. Telling herself that it was just a moment in time, and she’d never see the guy again, she flipped the closed sign over to open before opening the door to let the ocean air waft in.

Soon her morning regulars began to fill the tables. The coffee shop hummed around her with the buzz of conversation.

“Americano with an extra shot to go please.”

The voice sounded familiar.

Looking up she found herself face to face with the guy from the beach….

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – The Tin (flash fiction)

Posted on October 10, 2023 | Leave a comment

So many years had passed since she had last seen “the tin”. When had it even last been opened? The old shortbread tin was beginning to show its age. The tartan sides and border on the lid were faded. The image of snowcapped Scottish mountains on the lid was growing faint with age, almost as though a veil of mist was hanging over their peaks. The tin was older than she was. In fact, it might even be older than her mother.

Holding it in her hands, memories of playing with it as a little girl came rushing back. She had spent many hours sorting through the contents, plaguing her gran to tell her the stories that went with them. Her gran had happily gone wandering down memory lane as she reminisced about where each item had come from.

When she had been a child, the tin had seemed huge and heavy. Now, as she held it in her hands, it was the weight of the memories within that she felt.

Taking great care, she eased off the lid. As she glimpsed inside it, everything looked exactly the same as it had done over forty years before.

The tin was filled with buttons.

There were buttons in all shapes and sizes; there were buttons of every colour.

Lost in her memories, she ran her fingers through the buttons.

She spotted the large dark green buttons that had belonged to her grandfather’s army coat from during the war. There were small round pearl buttons from one of her mother’s summer cardigans from the 1950’s. Big round purple buttons caught her eye. Those came from the wool coat her aunt had bought with her first wage packet. She could see some bone toggles that had been snipped from her father’s duffel coat. One still had its leather loop attached. Several small pearly white buttons with a star in the centre made her smile. They were from her own handknitted baby cardigans. In one of the corners, she saw four or five grey buttons clustered together that had come from one of her primary school cardigans.

Reaching into her jeans pocket, she pulled out four navy blue buttons about the size of a two pence piece. With a wistful smile, she added the buttons from her gran’s favourite cardigan to the tin.

Her whole family history could be told using the buttons from the tin. In her hands, she held several lifetimes of memories. If only those buttons could talk. The tales they would tell!

She was now the custodian of “the tin”. Silently, she promised her gran that she would keep up the family tradition and add her buttons and her children’s buttons to the tin. In time, the tin would pass down to the next generation but for now it was hers to cherish.

A teardrop fell, landing on a red button in the heart of the tin.

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – The Magical Powers of a New Pencil (flash fiction)

Posted on September 20, 2023 | Leave a comment

Skliffing his feet through the piles of dry autumn leaves that littered his walk to school, he trudged along the road. He hated Wednesdays. It was the absolute worst day of the week! Even Mondays were better than Wednesdays.

On Mondays, they had a maths test in the morning. He loved maths! Numbers made perfect sense to him. Correct answers flew from his pencil into his jotter.

Tuesdays weren’t so bad. They had PE on Tuesday afternoons. He loved when they did gymnastics. He wasn’t so keen on team games. No one ever wanted him on their team, and he was always among the last to be picked.

The best thing about Thursdays was swimming and diving. He’d begged and pleaded with his mum and dad to be allowed to learn to dive. You had to be a certain height to join the diving club, but he was tall for his age, so he had been allowed to join a year before a lot of others who were his age. His coach said he might even make the team for the next competition at the end of the month.

Fridays were great. They had pizza on Fridays.

Weekends were ok, he supposed. Sometimes his older brother would take him with him when he went out with his mates, and he got to hang about with the kids who rode BMX bikes and did stunts at the skatepark. He’d got his own BMX for his birthday during the summer holidays, but he was still scared to try any tricks…. yet. Maybe next time….

He could see the school gates a few yards ahead of him.

He hated Wednesdays….

It was all because of a hat. He desperately wanted to be allowed to wear the Spelling Wizard hat for the day, but his letters came out in all the wrong places. Why couldn’t letters be smart like numbers and come out of the pencil into the jotter in the right order? Letters were evil but he really really wanted to wear the pointy hat. It reminded him of the Sorting Hat from Harry Potter, and he was sure if he just got the chance to wear it once then his letters would land in the right order on the page. It was usually Jennifer or Christopher who got to wear it. They always got all the words right. Sometimes they had to share the hat. One got to wear it for the morning and the other got to wear it in the afternoon. He wouldn’t mind having to share it.

All term he had tried everything to get full marks. He had even borrowed Jennifer’s pencil to see if that helped. If the letters came out of it in the right order for her then maybe, they might behave for him too. No such luck! He had only scored seven out of fifteen that week.

The bell rang as he entered the gates.

“Spelling jotters out, class,” instructed his teacher as soon as she had called out the register.

Bother Jennifer and Christopher were off ill! Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to wear the hat.

He took a brand-new pencil out of his pencil case.

Taking extra care to make his writing neat, he wrote down his answers word by word as the teacher read them out to the class from her sheet. Before he handed his jotter in to be marked, he read down the list of words quickly. They looked right…

“Class, complete the sums that are up on the board, please. If you finish before the time is up, take one of the worksheets from the blue tray.”

He finished the twenty sums within minutes and was on his second worksheet from the tray by the time the teacher told them to close their maths jotters.

As she lifted the Spelling Wizard hat, he held his breath.

“We have a new wizard this week,” she announced. “This week’s spelling wizard is Ryan! Well done!”

The class all cheered as she placed the coveted hat on his head. He had finally done it.

Smiling out from under its wide brim, he said, “Thank you,” to the teacher before carefully putting his new pencil back into the pencil case. From now on, it was his “spelling pencil” because the letters knew how to come out of that one in the right order.

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – Inside Out

Posted on August 21, 2023 | 1 comment

Night had long since descended. As she gazed out of the tenth-floor window, she could see the lights from the town twinkling below. Tiny cars were making their way along the roads. Everything looked so normal. It all looked the same. Nothing had changed yet at the same time, everything had changed. A huge crushing weight of responsibility had settled on her slender shoulders. Although this was a moment she had dreamt of and longed for, now that it was real, she was scared. Could she really do this? What if she failed? What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she couldn’t cope?

Behind her, the baby began to cry loud piercing wails as he squirmed in his clear plastic hospital crib.

Without hesitation, she scooped him up and cradled him in her arms, swaying gently from side to side to rock him back to sleep. Could she really do this alone?

She glanced down at his head covered in downy white, blonde hair, his angry red face, his tiny, clenched fists.

Her eyes caught sight of a label. His tiny white vest was on inside out. What kind of mother was she going to make if she couldn’t even put his first vest on the right way round?

Suddenly the familiar world outside the window seemed dark and scary and completely overwhelming.

“What are you doing out of bed? It’s late. You should try to get some rest,” scolded the midwife softly.

“But he was crying…”

“Let me settle him tonight. You need to rest. You’ve had a long emotional day,” stated the midwife stepping closer.

Wearily, she handed the fractious baby, her three-hours old son, to the midwife.

“Now, do we have a name yet?” asked the midwife, accepting the baby into her arms.

“Oliver,” she replied quietly as she smiled at her son. Allowing her mind to remember her late partner momentarily as she wrestled with her grief, then she added, “After his dad.”

“It’s a good name,” nodded the midwife as baby Oliver’s cries began to subside. “Now, bed. Sleep. Rest. The world will look less daunting in the morning.”

“I hope so…”

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Continue the Story – That Bridge

Posted on June 29, 2023 | Leave a comment

Without thinking, I took the first tentative step. It had finally happened. I had reached the point of no return…. or was I dreaming?

For months I’d been saying “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” dismissing future challenge after future challenge instead of facing up to them there and then.

Clutched in my hand was a well-worn piece of paper. It was the list I had written… the list of many of those future challenges that needed to be faced.

As I stared straight ahead, it looked as though each and every one of them had their own bridge.

Glancing down, all I could see were swirling mists. Just how high up was this rickety old bridge?

Carefully, I took a second step. The bridge shook but it held. Taking a deep breath, I took another small step then another.

In the dark recesses of my mind, I heard a voice say “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” Those words offered just enough reassurance to give me the strength to take the next step…and the next…

Eventually, I made it across the bridge. My hands were trembling. My heart was pounding. I had done it.

I glanced down at the list. The item at top had been scored through. How? Who? Did it matter? I’d crossed that first bridge when I came to it.

Step by step, bridge by bridge, I kept going. Challenge after challenge was scored off the list. I took my time, taking care not to rush the journey.

When I stepped off the final bridge, I stepped onto warm soft sand. The sun was shining, and I could hear the ocean waves crashing ashore just ahead of me.

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – Margarita Promises (flash fiction)

Posted on June 21, 2023 | 1 comment

As it was her last night in town, she had taken her time getting ready, making an effort with her make-up. Two weeks in the sunshine had added natural blonde highlights to her long hair. Her skin glowed, the strained dark shadows long gone from under her eyes. Glancing in the mirror one last time, she smiled. The reflection smiling back finally looked familiar.

With a swish of her long flowing cotton skirt, she left her Airbnb apartment, walked carefully down the stairs, reaching the boardwalk within a minute, just as the website had promised. Down on the beach, the last of the day’s sunworshippers were packing up. Further along she could see a group of teenagers playing volleyball and beyond that some fishermen with their rods sunk into the sand and their lines cast out into the ocean.

Unable to resist the lure of the sand, she kicked off her sandals, scooped them up by their straps and set off barefoot across the sand, it’s soft grains still warm underfoot from the day’s sun. To her right, ocean waves crashed ashore.

Her heart wasn’t ready to leave; her mind told her it was time to head back to reality.

When she had booked the trip that she’d dreamt of for so long, she’d told everyone “What I really want to experience is sunrise and sunset on the beach.” And she had…every day since she’d arrived.

Tonight would be her last sunset for a while; tomorrow her last sunrise before the Uber picked her up at lunchtime for the first leg of her journey home.

During the long dark months at home, she had checked the beachcam images of the beach and boardwalk daily. As she’d gazed at her laptop screen, she had promised herself when she finally made the trip that she would visit the bar in the foreground of the webcam view and enjoy a drink gazing out over the ocean.

The first night when she’d walked in there alone, her heart had been pounding, her anxieties crashing through her like one of the powerful ocean breakers that were breaking on the shore behind her. Walking into a bar alone was way outside her comfort zone but she knew she had a promise to herself to keep so, taking a deep breath, she walked across the room to the bar. She took a seat on a tall cocktail stool at the bar and ordered a margarita.

She’d done it. Another promise from the list honoured.

Around the same time the following evening, she’d returned to the bar for another margarita. This time it felt less daunting.

On her third night when she’d walked in feeling confident, the bartender had smiled as he saw her approach and began to mix her cocktail. When she went to pay for the drink, he told her the check had been taken care of.

There was someone sitting on the stool next to her usual spot when she entered on her fourth night.

“Chris, mix the lady’s margarita,” the stranger had instructed then turning to smile at her, said, “Good day on the beach?”

“Perfect,” she’d replied feeling a little flutter of nerves.

“Been beautiful today,” he’d agreed before introducing himself.

And so, her holiday margarita ritual had begun.

Each evening he was there waiting for her. A couple of nights they had gone for a walk along the boardwalk; a couple of nights the following week they had gone for dinner. He had been the perfect gentleman, proving to be easy to talk to and a good listener. Gradually, through casual conversation, they got to know each other, the first seeds of friendship sown over their margaritas.

When she stepped up onto the boardwalk from the beach, she found him standing watching her.

“Hi,” she called as she brushed sand from her feet before slipping them back into her sandals.

“Hi,” he greeted her as she walked towards him. “The lure of another walk on the sand too much to resist?”

“Always,” she laughed. “Going to be hard leaving here tomorrow.”

“Then don’t.”

“Pardon?”

“Stay,” he suggested simply, slipping his hand into hers. The fit instantly felt natural to her.

“I can’t….” she began.

Gazing down at her, he said, “What if you gave yourself permission to say yes?”

The next promise on the list waiting to be honoured was “be happy”.

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – Writer’s Block (flash fiction)

Posted on May 24, 2023 | Leave a comment

 Staring at the writing prompts lying on the desk in front of her, the writer’s mind was blank…totally blank. No stories. No paragraphs. No sentences. No words. Not even any letters. Blank…totally blank.

Was this what writer’s block felt like?

The silence in her mind was eerie. None of her imaginary friends, her characters, were whispering to her.

Had she done something to upset them?

Tiptoeing slowly, she explored the dark corridors of her mind, searching in all the dusty corners for any signs of inspiration.

Nothing….

A noise behind her caused her to turn round. It was the sound of a door closing. There were footsteps scurrying through the dark.

Then she spotted it. Inspiration was hurrying back to her along with two new faces. New characters? As they approached, she could hear them chatting animatedly.

When they reached her, she wrapped them in a huge welcoming hug.

Smiling, the writer picked up her pen and began to write.

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Continue The Story – Storm (flash fiction)

Posted on May 1, 2023 | Leave a comment

This is a continue the Continue The Story moment. I wrote and shared the first part way back in November 2021. Here’s the link to jog your memory  – Continue The Story – Fact Or Fiction? (flash fiction) | Coral McCallum

Now to Continue The Story….

“It’s good to see you,” she said after a while.

They’d left the bookstore almost half an hour before and walked a couple of blocks to a bar that Luke had suggested. He’d bought her a large white wine then directed them to one of the few empty tables.

“It’s good to see you too,” he replied with a smile. That smile… her heart melted just a little bit more. “How’ve you been? Looks like the books are doing well.”

“Busy. Books are doing great. Still feels surreal to see them on the shelves,” she replied, trying not to gaze too deeply into his dark brown eyes.

Noticing a lack of rings on her left hand, he reached across the round table to touch the back of her fingers

. “What happened?”

“I found the courage to leave,” she replied quietly. “Been two years since the divorce came through. He’s remarried now.”

“And you?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.

“No one,” she half-whispered.

“Ditto,” replied Luke, still holding her hand. “My heart still belongs to…” The sentence petered out unfinished.

It had been five years since they had last met but the chemistry was still there.

“So, why did you base Storm on me?”

Laughing, she replied, “You’d never believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” His voice was soft. He held her gaze.

“I wanted to fantasise about what might have been,” she confessed openly. “Writing about Storm was the only connection to you that I had left.”

“And, if what might have been, could be?”

The question hung in the air.

She knew her answer could change everything…

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From the Measly Jar of Motivation- Free of Sorrow (flash fiction)

Posted on April 26, 2023 | 1 comment

And the prompts were-

A LOUD noise! An explosion? The walls all falling in. Ceilings cascading downwards. Screams. Whimpers. Crying. Cold. Darkness …then silence. Trapped in a tiny space, she curled up and closed her eyes.

She lay there for what felt like an eternity. Her stomach growled with pangs of hunger. She was thirsty and longed for a cool drink.

She was scared. Alone and trapped and scared.

Just as she was losing all hope, she heard voices. Strangers’ voices, not the familiar voices of her family. Where were her family?

Suddenly, she was blinded by light as the piece of rubble above her was lifted away. Shaking with fear, she closed her eyes, whimpering quietly.

“It’s ok. I’ve got you,” said a man’s voice as he scooped her up into his arms.

She felt the stranger gently checking her over for injuries then he carried her away from the remains of the only home she’d known. He gave her a few drops of water from a bottle.

“What you got there?” another unfamiliar voice asked the man.

“The only survivor,” replied the stranger who carried her. “Pup. Can’t be more than four or five months.”

“What you going to do with it?”

Gazing down at the scared brown eyes staring up at him, he replied, “Clear it with the boss and take her home.”

She felt his warmth seep into her tiny thin body as he carried her away from the bomb site. A few moments later, he shifted his hold on her then he was placing her inside something. He took off his jacket, laid it out then sat her down in the middle of it. Already his scent was becoming familiar and felt reassuring to her senses.

“Wait there. I’ll be back soon, princess,” he promised as he closed the car door. “Need to speak to the boss before we head home.”

She must have dozed off as the vibration of the car and its motion wakened her. Looking up, she could see her rescuer in the seat next to her.

“One stop to make then we’ll get you home, princess,” he explained softly. “Need to pick up a few supplies for you at the pet store.”

Home…that suddenly sounded good.

Home was a fourth-floor apartment overlooking the river. When he carried her into the apartment, he took her straight into the kitchen and fetched her a bowl of water. She began to lap at the cold water thirstily.

“Slowly, girl,” he cautioned, stroking her head. “You don’t want to make yourself sick now, do you?”

She paused to stare up at him then watched as he scooped some dog food into a shallow dish before setting it down in front of her. It had been such a long time since she’d eaten…

The bowl was licked clean in seconds.

“Bath time.”

She stared at him with her big brown eyes but allowed herself to be scooped up again into his arms. He carried her down the hallway to the bathroom and placed her into the bathtub. Carefully, he washed all the dust and dirt from her soft brown and white coat. Satisfied that she was clean, he drained the murky water from the bath, letting her shake herself dry before he wrapped her in a warm fluffy towel.

Once she was dry, he took her back through to the kitchen then let her explore the long narrow room while he cooked his own evening meal. Just as she had done in her old home, she sat at his feet while he ate, hoping for a titbit or two. Her ploy worked.

Hours later, as she lay curled beside him on the couch, a new red collar round her neck, she realised that she wasn’t scared any more. She was free of sorrow.

Her ordeal was over. She had a new master now instead of her mistress. He seemed gentler than the little girl who had been her previous owner. He hadn’t pulled her ears or tail once.

As he dozed off on the couch, worn out from several long days of digging through the rubble day and night, she snuggled in beside him. Now felt like a time for being safe. A time to get settled into her new forever home.

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From The Measly Jar of Motivation – Visualisation and Realisation (flash fiction)

Posted on March 20, 2023 | Leave a comment

and the prompts were

Sitting cross legged on her yoga mat, she focused on her breathing….in and out through her nose, feeling each breath travel down into her solar plexus.

In front of her sat a small unscented tealight. Its flame offered her a focal point, if she should need it.

Calmly, she closed her eyes and gave herself permission to relax.

In and out…in and out…in and out.

Silence…stillness.

In her mind’s eye, a hidden door came into view. It was a beautiful, varnished oak door with a polished brass door knob. It was a small door. Dare she open it?

Her heartbeat increased before she stole a few moments to gaze into the small candle’s dancing flame.

She refocused her breathing; she refocused her mind.

In her mind’s eye, she reached out to turn the doorknob. The door swung inwards, revealing a long corridor lined with identical doors.

Remaining calm, she visualised herself walking slowly step by step, breath by breath, down the narrow hallway.

Was that noises she could hear coming from behind some of the closed doors?

It was her memories, both good and bad, that were restless behind their doors.

Focusing on her breath, she kept going. The corridor stretched on and on.

She recognised some of the memories from the sounds escaping from behind the closed doors. Some made her smile; some brought tears to her closed eyes and made her throat involuntarily tighten.

The small flame from the tealight flickered and danced unseen as she visualised walking past all the doors.

Voices from her past and present guided her on her meditative journey.

In her heart, she knew what she was seeking.

Eventually, she stopped, pausing in front of one of the doors. Silence flooded her mind.

Sub-consciously her hand reached out in front of her as she visualised opening the door.

It opened with ease. Cautiously, she took a step inside the room beyond. A voice whispered into her ear, “Welcome to Understanding. We’ve been waiting to welcome you.”

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