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
Back to School
Even a professional can learn something new. Besides, new eyes on old techniques can freshen them up.
Advanced Hand-to-Hand With Edged Weapons sounds good.
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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.
I stamp and shout, “You are such a liar!”
He is. So I set his pants on fire. And I got in trouble!
I can hardly see. The sun shone an hour ago, and now my hike is a shuffle.
The drop-off was to my left.
Oh – from this direction, it would be to my –
Always greener, right? Somebody else’s?
My partner stole my wife and framed me for embezzlement.
Jail’s no picnic, but I wouldn’t trade places with him for the world. That grass, he can have.
Dogs nearly had me that time. Made it into the briars, though.
Belly full of parsley, panting with fear and exertion.
It’s a great life, if you don’t weaken, eh?
They tell me it comes from the French for “help me” – “m’aidez.”
I don’t want a damned linguistics lesson, I want a damned lifeboat!
“You sure it’s here?”
“The fool said only I would appreciate a first edition. Our secret. Now our secret.”
“I mean the key.”
“The key’s up here, in the porch rafters. Waiting for me.”
So was the brown recluse.
When I saw the dress in his browsing history, 3 sizes too small and 15 years too young for me, I knew he was cheating. I’m overweight and aging, so I patched my broken heart and carried on.
But it was for me! Not me as I am, but me as he sees me.
Best birthday ever.
She was always happiest at the seaside. Met Denis there, married there, hoped to take kids there.
Now, a childless widow, she went alone. She swam until she could swim no farther, turned, and waved a cheery goodbye to it all.
Go to the Flashbacks link for all years’ Hot Flashes.