Tag Archives: Flash Fiction

National Flash-Fiction Day – Saturday, 22nd June 2013

National Flash-Fiction Day will be here in a flash and Bristol will be celebrating in style with an afternoon of workshops given by Flash-Fiction Day founder, Calum Kerr and author of My Mother was an Upright Piano, Tania Hershman. Plus, … Continue reading

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‘Twisted Tales: Flash-fiction with a twist’ A new anthology from Raging Aardvark Publications.

(And I’m pleased to say ‘Twisted Tales’ features one of my stories!) What do Hemmingway, Kafka, Chekov and Lovecraft have in common (other than they are writers?) They wrote powerful stories in what is now coined Flash Fiction, so while there’s … Continue reading

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Flash-Fiction South West Anthology:

This arrived yesterday and I must say it’s a beautiful piece of work. What’s more it’s filled with 53 beautiful pieces of flash fiction – and one of them’s mine! All thanks to Rachel Carter who arranged, co-ordinated and generally oversaw and bore the … Continue reading

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A River of Blood (Flash Fiction No. 7)

(This story was in the final six shortlisted for the Swanezine 2011 Short Story Competition) Blanche sat up in bed staring at the wallpaper opposite; at red roses playing on a pale blue sky, till they slipped out of focus and … Continue reading

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I Told You So (Flash Fiction No.3)

By Deborah Rickard “I told you, Mummy, I can’t do it. People will laugh!” “No they won’t,” I say. “The words will lump in my throat and won’t come out,” Joe stamps his small foot. “It’s nothing to get emotional … Continue reading

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The Rhythm of Life (Flash Fiction No.2)

By Deborah Rickard Slow, slow, quick-quick, slow. It began with the rhythm of a quickstep but soon crashed to a crescendo of jungle drums, beating a warning while I held fast, immobilised, confined. A corpse in a coffin. I could move my … Continue reading

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A Black Night (Flash Fiction No.1)

By Deborah Rickard The hairs on my arm lift with the breeze; a haunting breath from the open window carrying night-scented stock from the black-shrouded garden. I smile, a self-indulgent smile, and submerge myself in the memory of his touch, … Continue reading

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