Last week, we discovered monuments. This week, we blew some things up. This week’s text prompt was:
› Fireworks
Bright. Loud. Beautiful. Explosive. Romantic. Dangerous. Patriotic. Suspicious. It was a whole array of ideas manifested in pretty colors of light.
Stories were exactly 200 words. Which is your favorite?
Browse the stories in the Flash Fiction Archives, or below.
A big thanks to everyone who participated and took on the challenge this week!
Table of Contents
- The Rockets' Red Glare by Eolas Pellor
- Slow Burn by Kathy Goddard writer
- The Final Show by Jesse R Traynham - Author
- First Time by Mary Zuelke Author
by Eolas Pellor
Likes: 4
Words: 200
“What are you doing?” Clare asked, stepping between Max and her cousin Tammy. She might be only a shade over five foot tall, but the flash of her eyes made Max step back.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Max said. He held up both hands, in the universal sign of man caught doing something he shouldn’t have done. Tammy, in the meantime, had seized the opportunity to retreat. Max could see how she had won the state championship in the 100 metres; if she’d left a trail of smoke behind her he wouldn’t have been surprised.
“It’s exactly what it looks like!” Clare said. There were sparks in her eyes. “Why were you touching her hair, Max?”
“She just had some popcorn in her hair, Baby,” Max said, flashing his most disingenuous smile. “I just took it out for her, you know? I was just being polite.”
“You listen to me, Max.” She jabbed her finger into his chest with each word. “You’re my boyfriend, and that means you don’t touch other girls. Do you got that?”
“Oh, come on, Clare, be reasonable…” Max started to say, not realizing he’d just tossed a match into a powder keg.
Likes: 3
Words: 200
I didn’t expect fireworks when we met for the first time but hoped for a spark. Set up on a blind date by the friend of a friend, my expectations weren’t high. You were good looking enough; bleached hair slicked back, leather jacket faded and patched. Piercing blue eyes scanned me from mousse-tousled hair to scuffed Doc Martins. No fireworks for you either.
‘Drink?’ you grunted, nodding in faint approval when I asked for a pint of Caffreys rather than wine or spirits.
As you headed for the bar, the only spark was from your lighter when you lit your cigarette. Bending to kiss me at the end of the evening, your lips were warm. It was…nice. It didn’t set my world alight.
You must have felt the same because we mutually agreed to part ways.
We often saw each other at parties and concerts because we moved in the same circles, and sometimes ended up together at the end of the night.
Your kisses stopped feeling nice and my body started to fizz, as if a fuse had been lit.
A year later my engagement ring sparkles as brightly as the fireworks you ignite whenever we are together.
Likes: 3
Words: 200
Darlina had decided 1953 was her year. She had been practicing trumpet for freshman band in high school, but so far, her playing sounded more like an elephant with a head cold.
She was practicing away when a boom hit the entire house. At first, she thought it was her trumpet, but this was much louder.
“What the heck was that, Momma?”
“I don’t know. Sounded big.”
Darlina opened the front door and screamed. "Momma! The Reds dropped an atom bomb on Carswell Air Force Base!"
Momma scoffed. “What are you on about now?” She peered out the door. The scoff fell right off her face. An enormous mushroom cloud bloomed from Carswell. “Quick. Turn on the radio."
Darlina turned on the radio and switched to KRLD News.
Moments ago, an explosion was felt throughout Fort Worth. Wilfong Fireworks Co. has been flattened. Boy, did they put on a show. They couldn’t wait fifteen more days for the July 4th celebrations. For the grand finale, a full-blown mushroom cloud was seen for miles around, causing some to believe Carswell was under attack. No fatalities reported.
"Guess we'll have to buy our fireworks somewhere else this year, Momma."
"Guess so."
Likes: 3
Words: 200
The time was set. Jane couldn’t contain her excitement.
“Mom when are we leaving?” She glanced at the clock, biting her lip. “I don’t want to be late.”
“We won’t be late.”
Mom didn’t understand. It’s her first trip to the stadium—her first fireworks in a new place... A tear dripped down her cheek. She ran to her bedroom, pressed her face against the cold window, watching a train chug past.
“What you grumpy about?”
Her sister asked as she stalked into the room, tossed her baseball gear on her bed, and walked out again.
It felt like hours before mom finally called her.
The ride to the fireworks was fast, but they parked a mile away. Mom and Dad each held one of her hands as they walked, sometimes pulling her forward.
Dad handed in their tickets. The cement halls were huge, echoing with noise. They climbed the stairs until blue night sky opened above them.
Jane sat between her parents, eyes on the stage. Tiny men seting up boxes.
The lights went out. The crowd hushed.
Then it began.
“O say can you see…” Jane’s eyes lite up with the first blast of red, white, and blue.
When Colton Travers was just four months old, a runaway horse on Bent Oak Road caused a car wreck that left his mother dead. His father survived, then vanished. Raised on family stories and faded photographs, he never questioned the past . . . until a worn shoe box of old clippings surfaced with hints of a darker truth. Now, drawn into a fifty-year-old unsolved case, Colton must chase a trail gone cold, where memory holds the clues, time keeps the truth, and justice demands satisfaction.
Stargazing at the June Bug Ranch
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