Velika stopped dead when she saw the stuffed bear in the marketplace. He was extremely fluffy, and would be very nice to cuddle up with. One of his eyes was a little wonky, and he had a “sale” sticker on one paw.
“How much for the bear please?” she asked. Saying “please” was important.
“Ten crowns,” the stall owner said.
“Oh,” Velika said. “I only have three.”
A middle-aged woman squeezed in next to Velika. “Two dozen candles.”
“One moment, Danijela. I’m speaking with a customer.”
“She doesn’t have the money. Come on, I’m in a rush.”
The man slowly placed the candles before her.
“How much?” she said, grabbing the boxes.
“Nine crowns.”
“Nine crowns? That’s—”
“Ten crowns then. One more for every time you complain. Next time, ask before you touch the merchandise.”
A young man stepped up next to the rude woman. “Bruno, did you manage to fix my portfolio?”
“One moment, Anton. Danijela here is in a hurry.”
Danijela threw a banknote on the table, huffed and walked off. Bruno pocketed the note and pulled a huge, flat leather case from a box. “There you go, Anton. Twenty-seven crowns.”
“Keep the change,” Anton said, handing over three bank notes.
Bruno smiled at Velika. “The bear just got cheaper, young lady. Three crowns please if you still have them”
“But—”
“Danijela paid bear tax for being rude, and Anton paid it because he’s nice.”
Velika handed over her pocket-money. “Thank you,” she said, knowing enough not to look a gift bear in the mouth. “Can I call him Bruno?”
“That’s a fine name for a bear,” the human Bruno said. “I think he’ll be very happy with you.”
Saturday, 20 June 2026
'A bear in the marketplace' by Birgit K. Gaiser
'The Log Ride' by Melissa Flores Anderson
The lines are long because school just got out last week so all the parents are here with their babies and toddlers, even though there are only like five rides for little kids. Macy is grouchy because she skipped breakfast and the line is long and she wants to get into the park to get something to eat. Jane is grouchy because she skipped breakfast because that’s been her thing ever since she made the cheerleading squad and she doesn’t want to watch me and Macy eat.
Inside the park, we rush by all the families with the babies who are lining up for the carousel. Macy finds something to eat. The log ride isn’t running yet so I don’t rush her. Last time, Jane’s dad dropped us off, we rode it 18 times because it was a cold day and no-one else wanted to go on it. We went on it because the guy who lets people on the ride is super cute. Macy has a boyfriend, so she doesn’t care, and Jane says she just likes the rush.
Macy and Jane go on the revolution, a giant battleship that almost goes upside down, and I won’t go on it because I don’t like the feel of falling. But after, we climb all the steps up to the top of the log ride, at least three stories up, if we were measuring by the office buildings nearby. And when we get to the top, I see Joe, with his curly brown hair and puppy dog eyes, and he waves a little and says, “You girls are back again. It was Lilly, right?”
I don’t mind the fall, and the climb, and the fall, again.
Friday, 19 June 2026
'Flying Carpet' by Maria Sanger
Moren must have had one tequila too many at that lunch. It was as though she’d stepped into an afternoon jigsaw and had become one of the rough-edged pieces, one with cut-out frail knobbly bits. Flats, shops and people blurred into a cacophony of red and white and black with orange smudges, red lines and black dots. Shadows loomed above on mirrored screens like they were marionettes on strings chasing other shadowy figures. One hid behind a pillar like James Bond. He was going to follow her, she thought.
Like this man with the red cap. ‘Afternoon, Moren.’ He winked at her. ‘Fancy a drink later?’ He laughed and her head spun. He sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place him.
Oh God, she just wanted to go home and sleep it off. The fags would have to do instead. She’d have a black coffee when she got back in the office. She groaned. Three more tortuous hours with the dreadful Patrick.
‘Afternoon,’ said a swarthy young man as she weaved towards him. ‘Interested in carpets? There’s a sale on in the Town Hall.’
‘Only if they’re magic ones.’
He smirked, with one front tooth missing. ‘Well, you come and look.’
‘I’ve no intention of buying,’ she said, but she liked the sound of his voice.
The thought of going back to work faded from her mind.
A nasty taste of onion sat on her tongue. A burger van had parked just along the pavement and she tried not to heave at the smell.
‘What I’d really love to do,’ she said, ‘is to disappear and fly off somewhere exotic.’
‘Well, Miss,’ said the young man. ‘It’s this way. We’ll have you flying in no time.’
Tuesday, 16 June 2026
'A Quiet Maintenance' by C. Oulens
That was when another pair of knees and palms collided with hers, bringing her course to a halt.
“Looking for something?” he asked.
“Duct tape.”
“What happened?”
“Lost it.”
“Shame!”
“And you?”
“The manhole.”
“Gone?”
“Yesterday,” he said sheepishly.
“Ah! I sealed it with duct tape yesterday.”
“You what?”
She blinked.
“Why’d you do that? Now my pigeons can’t be fed, thanks to you!”
“Don’t you paternalise me! It lets out sighs at night. They keep finding their way into my bedroom.”
He let out a sigh.
“Oh! See? Exactly that!”
He stared.
“So why the duct tape again?”
“The sighs sounded muffled last night. Additional padding would fix it.”
“…sorry for your pigeons, though.”
“You should be. Their only remaining habitat…”
“But those heavy sighs…” she protested.
“Excuse me, did someone mention ‘heavy sighs’?”
They swerved. A kid, in late teens, stood stooping. Around his neck hung a garland of seemingly empty bottles—all corked.
“Already? A busy day, huh?” the man asked.
“Yes, quite! All bottled up.” He seemed disturbed. “Can’t release them without the manhole. Daytime sighs harden after dusk.”
“Shh…” she whispered, “it’s around here.”
They knelt. Ears to the ground.
A subdued flutter. The kid uncorked a bottle. A sigh whistled along the tape seams. She lifted the tape. The sighs slipped in. The man dropped some crumbs.
The kid listened, ear to the street. “Still some left.”
She frowned. “There always are.”
Already, the bottles were refilling.
The man looked at her pensively. “Tonight again, then?”
She shrugged. “Coffee?”
They joined the flow of feet. Beneath Shoppers Street, something continued breathing.
Saturday, 13 June 2026
NFFD 2026 Prompt #18: Busy
Prompt #18: Busy
Welcome to The Write-In! This year, we're celebrating the 2026 National Flash Fiction Day Anthology theme of Bridges. Throughout National Flash Fiction Day, we'll be posting one prompt every hours from 00:00 until midnight (BST), for a total of 25 prompts in all. You have until 23:59 BST on Sunday to submit your responses for possible publication here at the Write-In over the course of the next week.
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Look at Joanna Campbell's painting, 'Busy'. This piece is filled with warm, chaotic energy, stark angles, and scattered silhouettes all moving in different directions.
Write a flash fiction piece where at least three different characters cross paths in a bustling environment, but their internal goals are completely different.
To make this extra challenging, we ask you to avoid crime, accidents, or tragedy.
Bonus points if you can write a story where the intersecting chaos results in something serendipitous, humorous, or surprisingly joyful.
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If you’re submitting
this to us, make sure to note that this is a response to Prompt 18: Busy
You can submit responses until 23:59 BST on Sunday,
14 June 2026 for a chance to be published here at The Write-In.
You can claim the badge for this prompt by visiting our badges page.
Artwork by Joanna Campbell.