Killer Reputations


Killer Reputations


Photo from Tumblr 


Brindle was all dime store cosmetic allure and overlong eyelashes dwarfing her face, attractive only to certain types of men from the wrong side of the tracks.

Everyone said she was no good, that she would be her own ruination.

She did business on her back, while dreaming of spreading her wings and broadening horizons, but she owed her soul to heroin. She had to have the drug to blur the faces and perversions that  were her survival.

But she dreamed of better things, a better life teeming with love, until she was three months gone and her fate was sealed.

They said she had dried out and gotten her act together; she bore a girl child in a rehabilitation center, still on the straight and narrow, and returned to her home plus one.

But wagging tongues and cold stares finally broke her. Paramedics found her with a needle in her arm.

Her daughter attended the solitary service, watching alone, as they lowered the casket into the earth.

Everyone said she had grown quite beautiful in her late teen years, and spoke in hushed tones of what a shame it was that she had inherited Brindle’s poverty.

She was all dime store cosmetic allure and overlong eyelashes dwarfing her face, attractive only to certain types of men from the wrong side of the tracks.


By Wildfire8470



©March 19, 2018 at 12:17 AM Registered & Protected

#shortstuffsunday #SundayShorts #flashfiction #shortstory #psychological #fiction #human #condition #reputations #prostitution #harlots #history #repeats

Winning the Battle – Losing the War


Winning the Battle – Losing the War


She stood in the vessel, still in her pajamas, hearing the door tap staccato annoyance. She took stock of post-war casualties.


Venomous words, hurled like grenades, dripped from the air in corpuscle chunks, quivering in vast empty spaces between them, awaiting an overdue death at her feet.


Battle: 1

War: 0




by Uniqueorn

















My Fathoms (Word Prompts which must be incorporated):  vessel, pajamas, tap.

Tags:  #Zathom #story #fight #fiction #microliterature #microfiction 

Sylvia’s Salvation


Sylvia’s Salvation

Syliva's Salvation

Blue Dream by bluechameleon – Aminus3 Photography

Sylvia possessed an inexplicable beauty that left most people groping for words, though she wore it with silent grace. She would never be at the top of anyone’s scintillating guest list, but she didn’t care. She loved this place. Trinity was home, now and forever.

She had seen many drifters pass through Florida, enough to keep her feet firmly planted. She would never have the stuff of an itinerant, but that was fine by her. The most she dared hope was that someday they would scatter her ashes here.

Some referred to her as an old soul and she rather liked it. Sylvia found the description rather fitting. She spoke knowledgeably on a large range of topics, which needed to be addressed for betterment of the town, and always did so with elegance.

The townsfolk of Trinity had come to rely on her slightly severe manner, commanding presence and intuitive nature in lieu of her abiding love for Trinity and irreplaceable knowledge of it.

They basked in the benefits she brought about for them, and she was everyone’s immediate source when needed for a mother’s solace. Spinster or not, she served a purpose that was bigger than herself, and found immense satisfaction in so doing.

Not one of them could discern how sitting alone in the evening mist, beneath an aged, knotted, old willow tree could be the solace she sought. Nevertheless, she was a fixture there every evening.

The evenings were still and quiet, with dew settling silently around her, and therein she realized the shelter of a grandparent; old and bent with unparalleled longevity, knotted and battered, yet strong and pliable protection that swaddled her in its consistence; just as darkness enveloped the evening, affording it solace, protection and succor.

Sylvia and her beloved town would rest easy, sleeping soundly in the arms of security and certainty which was home. This town, these people and her commitment to cradle them, this was her salvation.

By Wildfire8470

Wildfire8470 Logo

© January 14, 2018 at 10:25 PM Registered & Protected




Tags:  shortstuffsunday, fiction, flashfiction, Trinity, Florida, Cryptkeeper, historian, mother

Die, 2017!


At Midnight on

New Year’s Eve I’ll be…

Die 2017!

[Image from:]



…Committing homicide:



holding 2017’s

ugly mug underwater, screaming, 

“Die, sucker, die”! 

Then I’m going to

light up fireworks for 2018! 


Happy New Year!









By Wildfire8470



Tags:  #2018 #2017 #Happy #newyear #homicide #NewYearsEve #NYE #celebrating #flashfiction #fiction #flasher #murder #life