Flashy Fiction: Under A Thousand

By George Angus

A wonderful collection of Flash Fiction Stories, all under a thousand words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: George Angus
• Release date: May 12, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452311050

George Angus

Owner of Tumblemoose Writing Services.The tag line reads: "Inspiring Writers Every Day"I write and have been published in the following venues:Magazine ArticlesWeb CopyStudent WorkbooksTextbooksAd Copye-booksI have two novels in progress.My style is fun and conversational. My approach is real and laid back.

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Flashy Fiction – Under a Thousand

George Angus

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 George Angus

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This fine collection of flash fiction is the cumulative effort of a number of authors who submitted their stories to the Tumblemoose.com website.

Flash fiction is a story that takes place in 1,000 words or less. This format forces a writer to write a crisp, clean story with any unneeded parts removed.

The stories here are inventive works of the authors and should provide for some entertaining reading. Please do all of them a favor and write a review at Smashwords about this e-book.

Contributors:

Gina Robinson – A Touchable Object, Love is Nothing

Rohi Shetty – Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!, Roadside Justice

Pradnya Parihar – Radioactivity

George Angus – Sickhouse

Robert Hruzek - One Fine Day

Paisley Thoughts – Great-Aunt

Genevieve Sawchyn – Longing, School Bus Musings

Rhea – Bats

Donna Castlegrant – Lunar Spirit, Jack The Hamster, and Transfer, Please!

A Touchable Object by Gina Robinson

The ringing of my cell phone woke me; it was 2:00 am. From the ringtone I could tell who was calling before I saw his name and face on the phone's display.

Why is he calling me?

Answering it seemed like the best way to find out.

I was aware of my heart thumping around, tripping over the furniture in my chest. Hello?I'm sorry to wake you, he said.

There was something about his voice. It sounded tense. Tightly packed. Spring-loaded.

What's wrong?

I needed to talk to you.Why?

No answer for three heartbeats.

I needed you.

Come here, talk to me then. Where are you? Want me to come to you?

Outside your apartment. Down here.

I peeked through the blinds, as he knew I would, and in fact he was sitting on the curb of the street two stories down, beneath my bedroom window. He held his cell phone to his head with one hand and gave a clumsy wave with the other.

Well come on up, silly.

I peed and brushed my teeth. Splashed some water on my face and tried to remember if he'd ever seen me without make-up. I wore pale boxer shorts and a beater tee-shirt, which glowed in the light of the fat full moon that shone through the window. As I opened the door, my mind was possessed with a strange formality, wondering what I should offer him to drink. I had beer in the fridge. I wondered if perhaps he'd already had too many.

Good manners became moot when our eyes met. Like his voice, there was something tense and urgent about his