Empty Promise

It was noon before I finally made it out of bed. I had woken with a thirst, and could not claw back the bliss of sleep no matter how hard I tried. The events of the evening before were returning to me in scattered fragments that I struggled to piece together.

I shuffled into the kitchen, my dishevelled appearance reflecting in the hallway mirror as I passed. My head was clear, but the memory of what she had done confused my thoughts and I wondered how much longer I could put up with it all. Would it be too much to expect her to behave with some decorum, occasionally?

It had all started out so well; her ability to match me in drinking capability had impressed me, and she was always up for a big night out. She never had a problem finding someone to join her. I knew she rarely attended her lectures, but even that, her rebelliousness, had seemed attractive, before. That, and the fact that she was gorgeous. I’d been flattered she had chosen me, and we had fallen into a relationship of sorts.

I eyed her cinnamon tea bags, which had found a home amidst the assorted detritus on my kitchen worktop. I made a strong cup of tea and set the grill to heat up; bacon sandwiches were definitely required today. I needed a good meal before I could think straight; to work out how to tell her it was over.

I opened the front door to take out the kitchen bin, and nearly tripped over the object that had been left there. This wasn’t the first time she had left a peace offering; what would it be this time? I wondered.

Inside the tin was a large chocolate cake. Well, I had to hand it to her; as olive branches go, she had at least made an effort this time. The fact that she’d managed to get all this done by lunchtime was also… impressive. How could she be so capable, and yet so out of control? The literal icing on the cake spelled out her apology further: ‘Sorry’ it read in looping white letters.

I sat at the kitchen table and tapped out a text message. ‘Thanks for the cake. This time we need a serious talk. I mean it.’

She agreed. I knew she was lying. I cut myself a slice of cake as the bacon sizzled.



First published here:


For National Flash Fiction Day 2016

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

Thanks also to Nik Eveleigh for helpful comments on this piece!


National Flash Fiction Day news

I have just learned that a story of mine called ‘Empty Promise’ will be featured here http://flashfloodjournal.blogspot.co.uk/ on Saturday at around 6:50pm as part of NFFD- exciting!

Please try and have a look at some of the stories which I think will be posted about every 10 minutes throughout the day.

The Reluctant Caller

As is becoming traditional around these parts, I would now like to share with you another non-winning Ad Hoc flash fiction entry for your enjoyment, or otherwise. Maybe one day…


Lucas stood in front of the imposing front door. He couldn’t reach the doorbell so he tapped, lightly on the surface, hoping that nobody would answer.

“What do you want?” The woman demanded. Her slate-grey eyes bored into him like pencil leads.

“Err.. I’m selling cookies, for the Cub Scouts?”

Her purple-coloured lips pursed together in annoyance. “Not today thank you.” She began turning away, closing the door.

“But, Mrs. Hasselbach!”

“Yes?” She seemed surprised that he knew her name.

“My Mom said you would buy some!”

She stopped and studied Lucas for a moment. “You must be Angie’s boy. What’s your name?”


“And how many boxes do you have there, Lucas?”

Lucas looked down into his wheeled cart and counted quickly. “Twelve. I think.”

“I’ll take the lot.” Her grey eyes shone like two polished ball-bearings as she handed Lucas a thick wedge of green notes and smiled.

© Rebecca Field

Photo courtesy of pixabay.com


The Final Straw

Happy Wednesday folks.

Apparently today is the first day of the meteorological summer (as opposed to the astronomical summer which starts on the 21st June). Not that the British weather seems to recognise that fact…

Anyway, here is another non-victorious Ad Hoc Flash Fiction entry. I personally like things to be left semi-ambiguous in stories (although there is clearly a line which can be crossed at which point the whole thing becomes meaningless drivel, but I hope this story doesn’t come into that category). Let me know what you think of this one.


Something sharp was poking me. It awoke me from my daydream in which I was rolling in a meadow of lush green grass, crushing the thick stems beneath my back and inhaling the wondrous scent of springtime.

I looked at the ground beneath my feet; dry, dusty and red with brick dust. The harsh sun beat down on my brow. He was jabbing my behind with a pointed stick, urging me ever forwards as was his habit. Slowly, I resumed my journey up the steep, rocky path that led towards the city where my burden of bricks would finally be offloaded.

He poked me for the last time as we neared the hairpin. Then, it was a matter of only a few sidesteps that forced him over the edge, down the side of the hillside to the rocks below. This beast would be burdened no more.

(Photo courtesy of pixabay.com)