Flash fiction

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Flash fiction is extremely short.

I wrote David Whool’s Wake in August 2024. It is 101 words in length.

‘You haven’t changed.’ It was a lie. Long gone were the pink Mohicans and face paint of forty years ago. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ Another lie. He was glad David was dead, the usurper.

‘I don’t know what I’ll do without him.’ 

They’ll take the camper around Cornwall, skinny-dip in the sea, make love to The Clash.

A man approached, a David look-a-like. Just her type.

He can’t lose her again. He won’t repeat that mistake.

The suitor leaned in, kissed her on the cheek.

He balled his fist. He was about to hit him.

‘This is my son, Paul.’