Flash Fiction Fridays: Alone

Before I start this story, I just wanted to say that this is something new I’m going to be trying out on my blog. Sometimes I just want to write a piece and share it instead of waiting months to hear from a lit journal or magazine. That’s where Flash Fiction Fridays come in. I’m gong to try my best to share a flash fiction piece ranging from 100 to 1000 words every Friday. Not only is it a fun writing exercise for me, I get to share my ideas with you! Now that that’s all said and done, here’s my first piece: Alone.


There were once six of us, and now I am alone.

We’d been together for quite some time, my companions and I. For many a year we managed to stay side by side, even when traversing the world. As a group, we were invited into warm welcoming homes by a multitude of hosts ranging from aristocrats to high society women to isolated artists. No setting was ever the same and we drank each in like they were our own. It was in these spaces that we were gawked over and admired. The complete perfect set, they would call us. Those were our glory days, long before we became weak and weathered and old. But, even then, curious hands would reach for us, wanting to know our stories and untold wonders we held inside. Though, that wasn’t enough to keep us from fate and her wry way of separating us one by one.

It all began on a harsh winter’s eve. We’d been staying in a modest structure surrounded by knick-knacks and oddities that mirrored our own haggard appearances from the passage of time, if not more. Visitors had been scarce that day and the waiting had made us tired. We bedded early, huddling together for warmth. When we awoke we noticed that where there were once six, there were now only five. Panic-stricken we shouted until hoarse for our dear friend, yet to no avail. There was no answer save for the howling winds and shifting of low burning coals.
This scene repeated itself over the following weeks until only two of us remained. Our terror had since transformed into a silent apathy that kept us awake late into the night. Foolishness led us to believe that if we kept ourselves awake we would be safe. I sat for hours staring at the Christmas decorations adorning our host’s walls, wishing their cheerful glow would soothe our souls. Yet, it only served as a mockery of our tragic situation. A mockery that was driven straight through my binding the say my last and only friend was taken from my side. She screamed and cried out, begging to stay, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. She cried out for me to save her, but there was nothing I could do. I could only watch from my shelf in quiet desperation, knowing she would haunt me for the rest of my days. But, what could I do? I’m merely a book after all.

There were once six of us, and now I am alone.


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