‘We’re allowed, Granny?’
‘Yes, Fred. An arty day!’
They spread pudgy hands onto paints I’ve splodged on our wedding China. Freddy holds out a green palm, turns to check he won’t get scolded.
‘Go on. Grandpops’ll love it!’
He handprints tentatively before Alfie smooshes the colours so they mix against the silver, creating a sludgy mess.
‘Even the windows?’ Freddy asks.
Giddiness is infectious. Splats on their faces and clothes. I laugh, the first time since I caught my husband with her.
I laugh again as I imagine his face when he gets home to his beloved Jag.
Huge congratulations to Bill Merklee and Regan Puckett, our two 2020 FlashFlood nominees who have been chosen to appear in Best Microfiction...
We'd like to mark the end of 2020 with a little celebration of this year's FlashFlood writers. Congratulations to the following wri...
How’d you do it, girl? Waitressing part-time at Steak ‘n’ Shake since the day after your sixteenth birthday, working weekends through high s...
A shaft of sunlight fell across the worn herringbone floor, drawing his gaze upwards to the flawless blue sky beyond the row of windows, ...