I poured poison into my thermos. I sat alone on a park bench. Several people passed by and we exchanged passing greetings. I inhaled the steam from my cup and grinned. A young man sat beside me. I knew him. I offered him some coffee. He drank. I smiled.
John Mark lives in a secluded valley in rural PA. When he is not maintaining his campground he is either writing or making fun of the people at Wal-mart. He intends to turn one of these into a career.
“Shut up, Jimmy! You never stop talking.”
“Jack, I’ll stop when you do,” came the snide reply.”
“It’s you who makes me say those disgusting words,” screamed Jack, slamming his prop basket shut. “Man, I need to see my doctor tomorrow.”
“No, you don’t,” whispered the voice in the basket.
John B Sinclair is a much-travelled Scot who has now returned to Scotland, where he enjoys freelance writing on a variety of subjects.
First night on the ward, the boss said, “Lookit, college boy, we got a load of patients. Most are only pick daisies in the park nuts, but them two in lockdown there is bona fide nuts-nuts. Don’t mess around with ’em.”
They didn’t look a lick crazier than the boss.
Gary Clifton was forty years a Federal officer, has an M.S. from Abilene Christian University and has short fiction pieces published in Spinetingler, Broadkill Review, Yellow Mama, and Dumb Butt Mag.
The word eludes me.
“Done yet?” she interrupts.
I scowl. “Looking for another Bestseller?”
“Yep!” my assistant chirps. She loves launch parties.
Sanity vanishes. I strike with my pen repeatedly.
Blood oozes, and she dies at my feet.
I blink. “There’s the word I was looking for… Expired.”
Lisa Forget lives in Quebec, Canada. A singer and entertainer by profession, she enjoys writing paranormal, romantic and young adult fiction as an extension of her artistic expression. She is a member of Kelley Armstrong’s writing forums, successfully completed NaNoWriMo 2010, and will have four flash fiction stories published by Pill Hill Press in the DAILY FLASH 2012: 366 DAYS OF FLASH FICTION (LEAP YEAR EDITION) anthology coming out in the fall of 2011. She’s currently hard at work on what she hopes will become her first YA novel.
Chocolate brownies are delightful. But not with nuts in them.
Chewy cookies are delightful. But not with nuts in them.
Insane asylums are delightful. But not with nuts in them.
Exploding fireworks are delightful. But not with nuts in them.
Repetitive statements are delightful. But not with nuts in them.
“When a cockatoo has gone insane, it will either make its nest out of smelted cobalt, or build its nest on top of a Cobalt, which, I’m sure you’ll agree, is very foolish.”
Dr. Mickelston squinted at his notes. Ah, this was why he’d been told to avoid citing Wikipedia.
This story was based on a prompt supplied by @Vanguard1219.
“I’m insane,” declared Carmen.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said her doctor bemusedly.
“I insist,” said Carmen. “I’m one-hundred percent crazy.”
“Are you hoping to get a prescription of some sort?”
“What, like a cheeseburger or something?”
“Ah, I see,” said the doctor. “You aren’t insane; you’re hungry.”
“Tell me, Doctor McSockterson… Am I insane?”
“That’s a difficult question for me to answer, Jared. I think what it comes down to is, well, do you feel insane?”
“What kind of a question is that? Are you even a real doctor? Or are you just a stupid SOCK PUPPET?!”
Editor’s Note: No, the title is not a typo.