A month or so ago, I submitted three flash fiction stories to FLASHSHOT. I learned today that all three submissions will appear on their website in November (November 6, November 13 and November 19 to be exact). Here's a link to the site: FLASHSHOT

I also subscribe to their posts via Facebook. Another link: FLASHSHOT ON FACEBOOK

Flash fiction is a term used for a short story (usually between one hundred and one thousand words) that tells a complete story with four components: character, setting, conflict and resolution all wrapped up in a frozen moment of time.

Flash fiction is a term used for a short story (usually between 100 and 1,000 words) that tells a complete story with four components: character, setting, conflict and resolution all wrapped up in a frozen moment of time.

Here are three "Flashers" I've written (100 word limit).

___


CHEF GEORGE by Merri Hiatt

“The Food Network is George’s religion,” Betty said to her next-door-neighbor, Alice.

“Does he cook much?”

“All the time.”

“Lucky woman.”

Betty put her hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow. “Watching the Food Network makes you a chef as much as watching the Medical Channel makes you a doctor.”

____

PALE THIN LINE by Merri Hiatt

The first thing I noticed, his eyes. The color of Fall leaves before they disappear with a crackle underfoot.

Next, the pale line around his ring finger.

A few bit-too-long glances and a bare leg crossed just so brought him to my table.

I pushed the chair out with the toe of my scarlet stilettos.

He sat and lifted my hand to his lips, lightly grazing my flesh.

“Sorry.” I gestured to his hand with the inviting pale line.

“Lost the stone last week; it’s being repaired.”

Yanking my hand back, I said, "Stilletos are perfect for crushing Fall leaves."

____

LOOKING FOR A VICTIM by Merri Hiatt

“Come here often?” I asked, knowing the line was lame as hell.

She dismissed me with a cool stare.

Turning my attention to the dance floor, I noticed a leggy blonde. Right height, slight build, three-inch heels; she’d do.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked when the band took a break and she headed back to her table.

“Sure.”

We talked; inconsequential.

Forty-five minutes was all I needed. Jared gave me a nod. We were set.

“What do you look for in a woman?” she asked.

I wasn’t looking for a woman. I was looking for a victim.