Flash: Forward Momentum

Flash: Forward Momentum

Stuart Page

Lemonade

Cathy is washing her dishes in hot, lemon scented water, idly staring ahead at the tiled kitchen wall, when she is suddenly overcome by the urge to be active. She drops a half-washed dish back into the sink and marches into her living room, eyes moving to and fro, taking in the space all around her. Then, stopping before a stretch of open carpet, she dives into a forward roll. It carries her much further than she expects. “Ahh!” Cathy yells as she crashes into a radiator. She deflates, stretching out on her back against the floor. “Stupid, stupid…”

About the Author

Stuart Page is an English and Creative Writing graduate from Salford University, currently living near Leeds. He has to write a piece of flash fiction every morning before 9am. If he doesn’t, his partner won't let him me play Pokemon.

Published May 26 2016

Flash: Play Fair

Flash: Play Fair

Stuart Page

Tomato Juice

  

Board game night. Five sit around a table with a stack of games on. First up: Cooperation in the Desert. “We won, no thanks to you.”

          “You what?”

            

Next comes Team Tower. “You’re gonna topple it, you’re gonna—”

            It falls. “You distracted me!”

         

After this, Moving in Circles Forever: Extended Edition. “Money, money, money,” the winner is singing. Someone flips the board and little pieces fly everywhere. The house dog eats a tiny metal car, gets a stomach ache.

         “Never again,” one person says.

         “See you again next week,” the others say.

About the Author

Stuart Page is an English and Creative Writing graduate from Salford University, currently living near Leeds. He has to write a piece of flash fiction every morning before 9am. If he doesn’t, his partner won't let him play Pokemon.

Published May 12 2016

100 Worder: Working Out

100 Worder: Working Out

Stuart Page

Iced Milk Tea

Hiroki is showering. He feels and looks good today after his long workout. 'I’d date me,' he thinks, happily. Hiroki turns off the shower and, avoiding the eyes of the naked men around him, reaches out for his towel. He freezes when he looks at the towel rack, however. He hasn’t brought his own. 'Oh, no.' He swallows. Hoping that nobody’s watching him, Hiroki grabs the nearest towel and hastily dries himself. He returns it. It falls to the floor.

            'Is that mine?'

            'I don’t speak English!' Hiroki shouts, fleeing. Next week, he tries out a new gym.

About the Author

Stuart Page an English and Creative Writing graduate. He really enjoy writings 100 word flash fiction pieces.

Published May 03 2016