Those deep pockets. Filled with safety pins and busy hands. Was Grandmother’s world going to fall apart and it would be up to her to pin it back together?
A safety pin pinched between those closed lips. To keep her from saying that one thing she wasn’t supposed to say?
Julie Eger is a massage therapist who writes fiction and poetry in her spare time. Her work has appeared in various anthologies including Anchala Studio’s The Collection: Flash Fiction for Flash Memories and Inner Circle Writers’ Group FlashPoint Anthology 2018 as well as other online journals.
IN FOUR HUNDRED YARDS, TURN RIGHT.
“Oo, nonsense! Not that way. Go up Nover’s Hill. That’s Mrs Rathbone’s house. She just died of oldtimers. BUS! This car needs a good clean… Turn left, I mean right. Oo, you’ve missed it! We’ll be late. VAN!”
Unfortunately, there’s no turning off SatNan.
Viv Burgess is not a back seat driver herself, but is usually ranting at her own satnav.
She cleared her throat, he emitted a small cough, and both focused their eyes anywhere but on the ham they were each having trouble chewing.
It rested on a platter, unnaturally shiny: the kind of shiny borne not of glaze, but an aged cook neglecting to remove the plastic wrap.
Jennifer Hrovat was inspired to get back into writing when she won some free socks in a Haiku contest last year. When not trying to score accessories through the written word, she works as a counselor and spends her free time running, reading murder mysteries, and making a giant tasty mess of her kitchen.