Winter passing by Julie Helms

If you've visited Glory's Garden at anytime this year, you're likely to know our guest today, Julie Helms. She not only keeps sheep and chickens at Wooly Acres, but she also has quite the knack for poetry and short stories. Today she allows me to present to you a flash fiction piece which really sings to me.

Winter passing by Julie Helms

 Tara was a true free spirit of the summer warm winds. Her little eight-year old legs danced in the tall grasses of the meadow, twirling her about. She picked wildflowers and wove them into elaborate wreathes for her hair. She picked more to bring her mother bouquets who put the blooms in quaint old glass jars and lined them up on the windowsill. Tara would wriggle her toes in dirt, run with her dog across the fields and quietly watch the baby bunnies in their nest as they grew.

Where did the time go by Alistair Marquise

My friend Alistair Marquise has the guest spot today with one of his flash fiction wonders. If you are not aware of what flash fiction is, it is a story told in as little as 100 words. At Helium they are a bit more forgiving and allow 400 words. Alistair is a master of this genre and while his stories may not classify as nice, little romances (Most of them send shivers up my spine!) but they are wonderfully creative and well told. So, here is Alistair's first (I do so hope he will allow me to feature others in time) flash fiction story.

Where did the time go by Alistair Marquise

The steps of the tower wind above and below him in interminable, vertigo-inducing spirals, light from unknown sources accentuating the twisting, jagged stone, offering no hope for escape, the despair of eons twisting its way with equal ferocity into both Heaven and Hell like a mammoth screw.

Life’s too short for ugly clothes

“Life’s too short for ugly clothes.”

“You sound like something out of Cosmo. Please, tell me you are not reading Cosmo. Hasn’t it been established that it rots the brain as surely as candy rots teeth?” Francine told her infuriatingly blase sister.

Rolling her eyes, Gina stood in front of the full-length mirror in the only dress shop her stubborn sister would enter willingly and ignored her latest gibe. She proceeded to survey her reflection with satisfaction. This separation from her husband had done wonders for her that five years of exercise and weight watchers hadn’t, with loads less money spent.

“So, what do you think?” she asked turning around and doing her best Vanna White impression.

“Where’s the rest of it?” Francine said, not at all amused. “Come on, spill it.”

“Excuse me?  I don’t want to look like a frumpy old housewife in sweats any longer,” Gina retorted.

“Gina, what’s going on?” Francine asked anxiously.  “You don’t see me for two month, you don’t even return calls and out of the blue you want to go shopping and this is what you consider appropriate for a mother of two? Hookers dress better than this, Gina.”

Never fall in love again

Dionne Warwick was letting her down. 

For one solid year Stephanie very successfully had been using Dionne Warwick’s signature song as a mantra, a incantation to ward off the evil that had plagued her since high school, all through college and even now into her ...God help her!....her mid--all right, all right!--late thirties. So, why was Dionne failing her now? Oh, but she knew perfectly well why.

“What do you get when you fall in love?  A guy with a pin to burst your bubble. That’s what you get, for all your trouble. I'll never fall in love again. ”

It had worked every time. All she had to do is sing along with Dionne and remember Chad, Tim, Jeff, Henry and especially Darren, the little weasel! And miraculously she would be safe, her heart would be still and she could concentrate on the important things in life, her friends, her family and her very successful career as an advertising genius.