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An Attempt

I decided to attempt writing flashes for the M3 challenge one more time. Well, so far it is not going well at all. I managed to get to 38 words and write myself into a corner. That is a neat trick considering the idea behind flash fiction is to allow the reader's imagination to run wild.

I am determined now that I have started to write at least one of them. It might take until the day before the deadline to get it finished but I am. It dawned on me that when I wrote that the regular feature would be ending I was giving up.

The Mundane

I gather all of my information to complete my taxes yesterday. I could have cried when I saw what I made last year, it is proof that I only worked when I absolutely had to. This year will be different, I cannot afford for it not to be now that I am a single parent to a handicapped child.

There is some paperwork that I have to hunt down and fill out for my child while I finish up my taxes, but it should not take that long once I locate it. She has not been getting additional therapy outside of school, she is on a waiting list for services. So technically that is an obstacle that is halfway out of the way.

Meetings

Thursday I have a meeting at the school to discuss the baby's behavior in class. This is going to be interesting. I think we're going to try one more time to have them put her in time out. Her teacher called me last week to tell me she was up twenty times before the ten that morning. I was not amused, neither was the teacher.

Well, that's about all I have to say this morning. I'm going to attempt to write some flash fiction while I wait for my ride to take me to my appointment today. Hope that your day is going well and the mundane is not putting you to sleep.


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Flash Fiction: Irrational

The old house had to be up to code in less than a week. The wiring was fried, and the walls were crumbling. Demolition seemed to be the only answer but the irrational woman that had hired him insisted that it had to be fixed. It seemed she had a strange attachment to this pile of rotting lumber. The week passed and the house was no where near ready. She came in slamming doors leaving piles of rubble in her wake as the fragile walls gave way. Cracks in the foundation widened as she continued the tirade until the ceiling came down on her. In the mist of dust and debris someone heard a fading whimper as she expired with the house she loved so. Why is she so insistent that the house be fixed instead of simply demolishing it and starting over? Is it fitting that her end came with the end of the house? The word is irrational and this post comes in at 125 of the 150 word limit. Vist M3 for official rules and word list. Visit Redmund Productions to pick up the serious and rememb...