Flash fiction – Anna Spargo-Ryan

Flash fiction Tag

Flash fiction: Horses

It's Tuesday. I'm supposed to be at school. Dad's taken me to a park and we're sitting on a bench and he’s holding my hand tight, like I’m about to run away. I've never been to this park before. It's wide and green and on the

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Flash fiction: the pier

I wrote this in response to this prompt. It is in the very thickness of night that Ernest Pearce hears it, behind the clanging bell of a ship lost on the waves. Dull at first, metal clanging against fixed metal, a kind of droll sea song.

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Flash Fiction – Judith’s birthday

This is my contribution to this writing prompt. Her cancer began as a disturbance on the surface. Pressing and prodding and six months of chemotherapy and her own chair in the ward next to Prostate Cancer Jack (6-12 months) and Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma Meghan (80% chance of

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Flash fiction – Jungle

From this writing prompt He weaves in and out of the dying evening, the daylight hustling, the sun disjointed on the horizon. There is nothing here that will satisfy him, that will fall into his belly in all of its completeness and warm him, and hold

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Flash Fiction – Behind the skips

From this writing prompt. I catch the bus for fifty minutes and Luke's there waiting at the terminal when we pull in. 'You're late,' he says, like it's my fault, and I tell him I'm sorry but he just shrugs and says, 'Means we'll only have

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If I weren’t mental

If I weren't mental, I'd be spending today in a secret laneway bar with my hand inside a man's pocket and my other hand around a drink with a hipster name like 'Pimms No. 1 jar' (because good drinks come in mason jars, also daisies), and I would be listening

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A bit of first drafting

I go to Malvern to meet with a couple from New Zealand. They’re both gorgeous. I feel plain and unpleasant. He is a builder and a rugby player. She works in marketing. They have a Rottweiler. Their rugby friends come around a lot, they tell

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“Heathered” – writing exercise

The name Heather has featured in a lot of my writing, and she's always the same sort of character: self-loathing, lost, lonely. One day I hope she'll come out full fledged. This challenge was to choose a random sentence from a nearby paperback, then write a

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