fiction | writing

Flash Fiction #1

My lovely twitter friend and writerly inspiration Anna Spargo-Ryan has been holding a series of flash fiction prompts of which I have been wanting to join in with. Finally today I have. Pop over to Anna’s blog to say hi for me after you read my attempt at flash fiction.

Writing prompt: And as she fell, she remembered the tea cakes with their cinnamon clouds.


The radio blasted loudly as she switched on the ignition in the car

And as she fell, she remembered the tea cakes with their cinnamon clouds” came the lyrics in a wispy, soulful voice.

Lana flicked the off button. Stupid triple J, she mumbled under her breath as the tears began to sting the corner of her eyes threatening to spill forth. He had driven her car last night. Said he needed to drop something to his mum and then returned with a box of chocolates and flowers, as if that would make things right. Nothing was right, it was wrong. So terribly wrong. He was leaving. Leaving for Iran.

Iran! Of all places. No, not London, or America like normal people vacation. Fucking Iran. The Middle East for Christs sake! War. Terror. Murder. Death. It certainly wasn’t the holiday destination of choice.

It was a working holiday, he had said. He promised her he would stay safe. But western reporters weren’t welcomed with open arms and smiles of compassion in right now. How could he even dare to promise her?

She fastened her seat belt and rubbed her small, but rounding tummy. Fresh saltiness blurred her vision as she drove towards the main road leading into the city. Morning fog and smog hung low over the high-rises in the distance. Pea soup. Just like her thoughts. Words. Questions. Scenarios. All mashed together in her mind in a thick pulp. None of which were good. She swallowed the sharpness in her throat hoping it would go away, but knowing it wouldn’t.

At the traffic lights a mother crossed the busy road opposite her pushing a bright red pram that looked more like a spaceship that a pusher. Lana watched her and smiled imagining herself with a bright red pusher. One day. Soon.

Then it happened. A flash. A scream. The screeching of brakes. The crushing of metal. A thud. Another thud.

Lana opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t.