Hot Flashes are tiny little stories–fireflies for your mind–usually of no more than 50 words, including the titles. Every month, I post a new one. Scroll down to see the previous ones.
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September HOT FLASH
Bill liked a well-trained dog. Saved time to steal one.
Too bad he didn’t know “Good boy” was its kill cue.
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MA’s Monthly Hot Flashes: 2002-2009 are…is…now available in electronic formats–for Kindle (text-to-speech enabled) at Amazon and in many other formats, including text and .rtf at Smashwords, as a Nook book and at iTunes. Price = $0.99
Review by: donna crow on May. 21, 2010
Marian Allen’s Hot Flashes are a delight. A complete short story in just a few lines: a conversation, a sketch of a scene or a character and then, the stinger in the tail. (tale?)
Flash fiction is to a short story what Haiku is to epic poetry.
Donna Fletcher Crow
author of The Monastery Murder Series
.Want to give the folks behind you in line something to do? Visit the store to put a year’s worth of MA’s Hot Flashes on the back of your shirt! Also available on a tote bag, a messenger bag, an apron and a mousepad. Years 2003 through 2007 are done and the others will follow, if interest is expressed.
How could he do me like he done? He knows my temper. He knows I carry. It’s like he wants me to kill him.
Never could say no to that man.
8 years old: On paper: heart, arrow, BO + AMY
23: On a cake: heart, arrow, BO + AMY
45: Amy heart, Ben arrow
46: On cell wall: arrow, heart, arrow, heart….
I caught me a leprechaun. Made him tell me where to find his pot o’ gold.
I found the pot.
It was full of gold.
Piss. It was a pot full of piss.
Leprechauns never lie.
“Sorry, sir. It’s my job to extract payment.”
“I’ll give you anything!”
“Bribery? Shame! I won’t take much. 10%, say?”
“Please don’t cut me!”
“You cheated on the boss’ daughter. Call this a stupidity tax.”
Chickens keep the ground disturbed.
Corpses breed worms.
Plus, fresh eggs.
Live in harmony with nature, that’s my motto.
Nobody knows I love the groom.
Nobody notices the caterer.
Nobody sees me with the bride.
Nobody suspects me.
I still have nobody, but neither does she.
Stroke of Luck
Did you know you can die of the heat?
Lena’s passed out from celebrating hitting the slots. I turn off the air and leave. Am I lucky, or what?
Julie was a hottie.
Bobby was, as well.
I caught the two together.
Now they burn in hell.