Memories (Flash Fiction)

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Sitting in the driveway, under the old Maples, a long-forgotten song played on the car radio. It took him right back to that moment in time when he was sixteen. “Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue, with a love so rare and true…” floated from the speakers. Peggy Sue was one of those memories he had pushed back into the closet of his mind.
Under the maples, in the dark of the evening, he hesitantly gave her a kiss. It was the first for both of them. It all happened so quickly; and then she was off, back around the house.
Hormones raged, as they sat holding hands on the swing, under the naked bulb of the front porch light. Pandora’s box had been opened, never to be closed again.
Though time and circumstances changed their course. “These memories were left here with the trees.”

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Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Tonight at d’Verse we are writing Flash Fiction, which must include a line of a poem in our story. Stories are limited to only 144 words.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Anna

Dancing Girl

Four years old Anna’s, daddy played the fiddle in a small-time music group. On Saturday nights, her mother brought Anna to the Via Cappuccino to watch her daddy play.
As the group sang and played, Anna left her table and moved into the walkway where people pass to get their coffee. She threw her head of yellow curls back and danced and twirled as the music captivated her mind.
When Anna started school, her teachers reminded her that spontaneity was not welcome in the classroom. In Middle School, she became sad, bottled up, and aggressive. One day, she got sent home for a three-day suspension.
As her father drove her home that day, he told her,
“Anna, one day ‘you will love again the stranger who was your self’.”
*****
“Tonight, we play music!”
“Come listen to me play my fiddle (…and remember that stranger!”)

Bing Photo: coolwebsiteinfo.com

Tonight at d”Verse, Kim asked  us to write a flash fiction piece of not more than 144 words. We also were asked to include this line of a poem: ‘you will love again the stranger who was your self’

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Lost (Flash Fiction)

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Lost
Dwight L. Roth

I was lost…totally lost in the pitch-black darkness. I climbed this ridge several times in the daylight, following the winding trail all the way to the top where we had set up camp. Now I was stumbling; tripping over rocks and branches as I wander off the trail. Why did I forget to bring my flashlight?
Talk of a mountain lion in the daylight brought no fear, but now, in the pitch dark, the reality presented itself with every distant rustle of the leaves and breaking of a branch. I pressed on climbing upward, feeling my way through the saplings, mountain laurel, and dead tree limbs. “The top can’t be too much farther.”
Suddenly. there is that unmistakable wine of a big cat; off in the distance, yet too close for comfort. Chills run up my spine, when far away an interrupted cry… silence!

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Bjorn at d’Verse introduced us to our new form to work with…Flash Fiction. He asked that it not be more than 144 words. It could be exactly 144 words as well. Mine is 144 words. We must use the given line from a poem somewhere in the story. Today it was “when far away an interrupted cry…”

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

A Christmas Carol

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One of my stories, A Christmas Carol, has been included in the Old Mountain Press’s new anthology of poetry and flash fiction. It is entitled Tis the Season, and is available on Amazon Kindle as seen below. Tom Davis is the editor and has several of his own books on Kindle as well. This is my story.

A Christmas Carol
Dwight L. Roth

Each Christmas, we listened to A Christmas Carol on the big floor model record player that sat between the two windows in the living room. An album of several large vinyl records waited patiently on the shelf for our arrival each year.
My Aunt Janet and Uncle Loren lived in a big two-story brick house on Main Street in Allensville. We stayed with them each Christmas, when we traveled four hours to be with our family.
As we all gathered around the record player, Uncle Loren pulled out the first shiny black record and carefully placed it on the turntable. The scratch of the needle against the vinyl came through the speakers as we waited for the story to start.
It was a magical time… a fantasy world, as I listened to the story unfold. Ebenezer Scrooge, Bob Cratchit, Ghost Marley, and Tiny Tim all came alive in my mind as the ghosts came and went. We sat mesmerized, letting the tale unfold all the way to the final transformation of Scrooge into a generous caring man.
The radiators clanked as the steam passed through. The colored lights in the windows were filled with liquid that bubbled, adding to the hypnotic spell cast by the story. No one said a word until the needle scratched its way into the speaker as the last record ended.
It was a great time to be alive.

Click on the picture or link to it on Amazon search.