'Under the scoop' by Michelle Dickins

 

‘We will scoop it up…’

 

In her mind an ice cream scoop cuts through her favourite choc-mint ice cream. A large dollop is put into someone else’s bowl, out of reach. Saliva builds in her mouth, too much saliva and some spills out. Three middle fingers press into her upper lip. Underneath her teeth gnaws the bottom one until words burst through.

 

‘Will there be any left?’

 

‘We will take enough tissue to make sure we have clear margins.’

 

A shovel size wound appears in her bosom. It’s time to try new flavours. She thinks she’ll start with salted caramel.

'The Scapegoat' by Amy Wilson

It used to be a city, that much was clear. The remnants of the walls were still standing, the sand hadn’t yet covered all of the cobblestones. We’d thought the place was empty until we saw the old man, sitting in the blazing sun.

“Who’s there?” he asked, one hand raised to shade his sunburnt face.

“Please, we’re only looking for water.”

He looked at us for a long moment and then said, “There’s no water left anymore, but I have some ale inside.”

“I can’t -” I began, but he cut me off.

“Take it. I won’t need it after tonight anyway. The sands have come for the rest of the city and it won’t be long before they take me too. If I were you, I’d be out of here before nightfall.”

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off.

“You have to understand, it was war. You do things you don’t want to bring home to your family. That’s why no army was allowed to enter the city gates until they’d sacrificed a scapegoat. One man, chosen to bear the sins of us all.

His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “We were humane about it; used a sharp blade, always took care of the family. But the man would beg all the same. Only this one, he didn’t beg. He just smiled as the executioner brought down the blade. And there was no blood, just a kind of black smoke that rose up where he had been kneeling. Rose up and choked everything in sight. Some of us ran then, back to our homes and our families, but it was already too late.”

He looked up and blinked at us, as if he had forgotten we were there.

“You should run,” he said simply.

Gossip Girls by Adrian Price

 Julie and Heather were old school mates, who were continuing a close friendship long after their school days. For many years they would meet up every week at roughly the same time and same place, 10am Tuesdays at the Biscuit Dunker. An aptly named café where each cup of tea or coffee, arrived with a free biscuit of the day for dunking. The ladies routine would always be similar, coffee and a chin wag. Followed by a stroll to the shops, followed by a swim at the local pool. The day would then end with a late lunch before returning to their families. Both ladies were in there late twenties and married, with young children. Julie with one boy, little Davey of pre school age. Heather with twin girls Charlotte and Chelsea, a year older than Davey and in their first year at primary school. Today however, the chit chat would last much longer. Julie’s husband you see, is a fireman and the story around his recent call out was a hot topic.

 Graham and his crew were called to a large disused warehouse fire, often used by the local vagrants for shelter. Having saved many trapped inside, one of Graham’s fire fighting colleagues lost his life when part of the building collapsed on him. The servicemen devastated by their loss, were all commended highly for the bravest of actions where not another life perished in this incident, only that of this brave officer doing is duty. 

 This conversation had been so intense that they decided to miss the shopping trip, stay for lunch at the Biscuit Dunker Café, and walk to the pool for their swim a little later. Taking a rain check on the shops for this week

NFFD 2021: Prompt #2

 

Jawbreakers

Jawbreakers was the first National Flash Fiction Day anthology, published in 2012.

For this prompt, embrace the jawbreaker structure and write flash that involves at least one story within a story.  

If you'd like an extra challenge, embed multiple stories within stories, but keep your piece under 300 words.

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If you’re submitting this to us, make sure to note that this is a response to Prompt 2: Jawbreakers.

You can submit responses until 23:59 BST on Sunday, 27 June 2021 for a chance to be published here at The Write-In.

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Past National Flash Fiction Day anthologies are available at the NFFD Bookshop.