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Flash Fiction Magazine Vol 3

Timothy is a Christian who enjoys creating visual art and writing. He has a B.S. in Psychology.


Here is the third collection of Flash Fiction stories. Some of these stories are 99 words some are a little longer. I have put them this time is sort of a magazine format. I hope you enjoy this new format.

Patrick Fore

Patrick Fore

Fuzzy Bunny Slippers

My life changed when I saw that pair of fuzzy bunny slippers on the store shelf. I picked them up and then sat them down again.

“Yuck” I said out loud.

The lady standing next to me looked at me like I was some kind of a nut case. I smiled at her in one of those little annoyed smiles. You know the kind like you’d give your little brother or sister when they annoy you. Well it must have done the trick because she turned away. Though I thought I heard her mumble something like “inconsiderate kid” under her breath.

Well no bother I turned my attention back to the shoe rack. Those fuzzy bunny slippers appeared to be looking at me. No I mean really looking at me. I stared at them for a few minutes. Nothing happened. I turned to walk away. One of the bunny slippers had slipped me a razzleberry complete with the thurtpt sound

I turned back. The shoes mocked me in their silence. I ran out of the shoe srores as fast as possible.

Writing Fiction For Relaxation

Writing is one of the best ways to relax when you''re stressed. Before you start writing you must set some ground rules for yourself. Here they are.

  • Be kind to yourself - One of things about writing for relaxation is there is no getting it wrong. Drop all the expectations you have and just write.
  • Break the rules - When writing for the fun of it or for relaxation, don't worry about breaking the rules of writing. Remember this is for fun. Nobody else is going to read what you write unless you want them to read your work.
  • Write with a sense of fun - Above all else have fun. Let your guard down and let the words flow.
Amador Loureiro

Amador Loureiro

A Better Place

I dreamed of a better place

Just the other night

Where people were full of joy

What a beautiful sight

Wish it were true, don’t you

Wish it were true, don’t you

I saw no pain, no suffering

No evil words came my way

Everyone danced to the tune

Of a brand new day

Wish it were true, don’t you

Wish it were true, don’t you

Everyone knew each other

Each was a friend to all

War ceased to be a problem


“Love what?” Gilliam thought to himself. He looked around the literature classroom. Not one of his so- called classmates in the room cared for him. They all said he was different. His true friends were the geeks and freaks. He let out a sigh…”How was he to become their protector. How was he going to learn to love them unconditionally?

Gilliam looked up at the clock. The bell should be ringing any second now. He shoved his notebook in his backpack and threw it over his shoulder.

The bell rang. “Finally,” Gilliam muttered to himself.

“Hey, Gilliam still writing that crap poetry?” Shouted Josh as he walked out the door.

“Yeah, man, find something more manly.” Chimed in Keith.

A few more chuckles and the classroom was empty. He stood up to go to his next class.

“Better hurry or you’re going to be late for class.” Said Mr. Lewis the Literature teacher.

Gilliam looked at him. “Yeah I know...I’ll make it.

“Oh, and Gilliam don’t let those guys get to you. Keep writing your poetry.”

“Where I come from it’s almost a requirement.” Gilliam smiled and left the room.

Steve Johnson

Steve Johnson


“This is all a joke isn’t it?” He looked at the guy next to him. He had short hair which awkwardly hung over a furrowed, gloomy face. He had lidded hazel eyes, set deep within their sockets. Soiled and tattered clothing loosely hung on his body. “ I mean this is America. They can’t lock us up for witnessing to people about our faith.”

The man lifted his head. Sadness welled at the corners of his eyes. “America is no longer the America you and I grew up living in friend. Now if you do not conform to what they say you should be saying you can be tried for using your own words.”


“I said, they can’t lock us up for speaking the truth of God. This is America. We have freedom of speech after all.”

“I thought so too. I was a pastor trying to lead my flock like a good pastor does. Then they enacted a law which classified most of what I preached as hateful. I ignored the warning from the local government about toning down my words. After all I was just preaching from the Bible. Then, one Sunday, the police showed up and I was jailed for hate crimes. I’ve been here for months. I’ve been allowed no visitors and am given no privileges.”

“Wait, haven’t you had a hearing?”

“No, they keep granting the prosecution an extension on my case. It means they can keep me in here. I haven’t even seen a lawyer yet. So why did they get you?

“I witnessed to a friend, someone overheard me, called the police. Next thing I know I’m in here.”

Both men turned as they heard footsteps in the hallway. They looked up as the door to their cell opened up. The preacher started to say something but before he could a young man was thrown into the cell. It was his oldest son.

“Read a thousand books, and your words will flow like a river.”

— Lisa See

10 Short Story Writing Prompts

  1. Here are 10 first lines to get you started on your story.
  2. As he opened the car door, there was a loud pop.
  3. The victim had tried to write something as he was dying.
  4. “Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to your response.”
  5. A flood swept away an entire town, leaving only the library and its strange secret.
  6. I stood there my mouth wide open as the dog started talking to me.
  7. Who would have thought a snowman could come to life.
  8. "Act natural, maybe they won't notice us."
  9. "Will you just listen to me!"
  10. "How can a bad guy not that kind of guy?"

The Baseball Cap

Happy boarded the 6 PM bus from Market St to Franklin Ave like he did everyday after work. He sat down in his usual seat, the fifth one on the left. He sat down to relax on his ride home. He noticed a baseball cap sitting on the seat next to him. He picked the cap up and examined it. The cap had the sales tag attached. A new hat. Someone must have dropped the hat out of their bag.

“Their loss, “ He thought.

He ripped off the tag and put the cap on. He could hear people’s thoughts.

Ghost Town

He walked down the street. Dust kicked up around his boots with each step. Around him were the skeletons of a once bustling city. Broken reminders of the life he once had.

“Why have you come here?”

A mist rose from the ground. It coalesced into the form of a human woman.

“Again, why have you come here? I told you the last time to never come back.”

He looked into her misty formed eyes.

“I missed you.”

“This is a ghost town. You’re no longer a ghost. Now go away!”

“Is that any away to treat your brother?”

“You don’t start out writing good stuff. You start out writing crap and thinking it’s good stuff, and then gradually you get better at it.

That’s why I say one of the most valuable traits is persistence.”

— Octavia E. Butler

Undercover Angel

“There’s no way you could be an angel.”

“And why is that?”

“Cause you’re just a kid in high school.”

“That’s what makes me the best. No one suspects. They are used to seeing angels as adults. You know, because of all those shows and movies depicting angel intervention. Problem is they never get it right except for maybe Ms. Miracle, she is close, so close. We’re just here to help carry out the Lord’s work.”

“So why are you here in my school?”

“Take a look around. There are 4000 students who need my help.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Third Times Around

I hope you enjoyed this new format for my flash fiction stories. If not or you have other improvements I could do please let me know in the comments section. Thank you again for reading these stories.

Until next time stay safe and write on.

© 2020 Timothy Whitt

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