top of page
  • Writer's pictureJon

Flashin' Some Fiction

Updated: Dec 20, 2020

I hope you and your family are doing well during this confinement. Last year, I wrote a post about writing a flash fiction story at a meeting of the Southeast Louisiana chapter of the Romance Writers Association. Yesterday, I dug into the binder that the story was in while looking for something else and discovered it. I wrote it based on characters in an unpublished story. Here is the flash fiction story.


Billy and Danielle sat at the counter of Tiffany's Diner. Each nursed a cup of coffee. Neither had spoken during their breakfast.

Danielle eyed the elderly woman at the cash register across the dining area. "She hates me, you know."

"You keep saying that." Billy sipped his coffee. "She's nice to everybody else. Maybe it's you. You're the one with the attitude and short temper."

"And you flirt with every pretty face you come across." Her lips thinned. "Stop ogling the blonde behind me. Look at your wife instead."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not ogling Brenda or anybody else. I'm a detective, remember? I'm supposed to watch people. Your jealousy will be your undoing.?

She raised an eyebrow. "Brenda? Really? And why must you always be on duty? Can't we be Billy and Danielle like we were in high school?"

"Good times." He smiled. "You're just as hot now as you were then. Me, on the other hand, not so much."

"Then why did you spend every Saturday morning with Nicole Brandt, that poor girl who was murdered last night? You two were having an affair. Don't lie to me."

Billy raised his hands to his shoulders. "Whoa, wait. It's not what you think. We only talked."

"Of course, you did." Danielle leaned toward her husband. "I watched through her bedroom window. I saw you two screwing." She raised her phone. "I even took pictures. Wanna see?"

His eyes widened. "You were supposed to be at your mother's house."

"Oops." She laughed. "Some detective you are, asshole."

He drooped. "What now? Divorce? Reconciliation?"

She shook her head. "Prison."

"Outside of certain cultures, infidelity hasn't merited a prison sentence in centuries." He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Go ahead and laugh." She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "I slipped you a mickey and then I dressed in your clothes including that stupid fedora you wear, took your phone. I went to that whore's house and shot her with your service weapon. Don't worry. I wore gloves and a hairnet. My DNA won't show up anywhere, but yours will." She leaned back and sipped her coffee. "Case closed."

"What have you done to me?" he gasped.

"Don't worry, you cheatin' bastard." She smirked. "Your detective friends should be here for you in the next few minutes. And don't bother blaming me. All the evidence is against you. Ain't karma a bitch?"

And that's the story. Hope you liked it.

9 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

And Sometimes, You Were Right in the First Place

Huh? Yup. In my last post, I said I was wrong about using the existing cover of Second Chance and decided to replace it with another design. Well, I've been convinced to keep the original cover. It be

And Sometimes, You're Wrong

When I published Second Chance, I fully believed the cover accurately reflected Gus Harrison's immaturity in the story. Instead, it appears I'm the only one who sees the cover this way. No problem. Wh


bottom of page