Story 1
20 June.
This was Greg’s final day driving the number 28 bus.
His retirement party had been the previous week. The speeches had been made, the cards signed and the goodbyes said.
He left the depot at 8.10 a.m.
The phone calls started just before nine.
“Where’s the number 28?”
Nobody knew.
Greg hadn’t stopped once.
He hadn’t picked up a single passenger.
Instead, he drove his empty bus to the coast.
He bought himself an ice cream and a cup of tea.
Then he climbed to the front seat on the top deck and watched the sea.
For the first time in over forty years, Greg had nowhere to be.
He sat quietly, eating his ice cream.
Then he took an old photograph from his wallet
Story 2
Arthur Henderson had fed the pigeons in the town square for as long as anyone could remember.
Every Thursday afternoon he arrived with the same old paper bag. The birds spotted him long before anyone else did.
Children laughed as they fluttered around his feet. Shopkeepers smiled. Most people never gave him a second thought. He was simply part of the square.
Then, one Thursday, he never came.
The pigeons did.
At three o’clock they gathered as usual, wandering around the empty bench before eventually flying away.
The following week an elderly woman arrived with half a loaf.
The week after that, a teenager emptied a bag of bird seed.
Nobody had asked them to.
It just felt like the right thing to do.
Months later, the council replaced the old bench.
The new one looked exactly the same.
Except for a small brass plaque.
Story 3
Zara had been on this cruise for thirty days. It was the trip of a lifetime, a solo voyage from Southampton to New Zealand via the USA, paid for by a generous inheritance left by her mother. It had cost £10,000.
She had never believed in love at first sight. In fact, she was suspicious of getting close to anyone. A few failed relationships had seen to that. She certainly wasn’t looking for anything.
Then day thirty-one happened.
The tender was ready to take passengers ashore in Panama when Philippe held out his hand to help Zara aboard. She stumbled slightly and fell into his arms.
Their eyes met.
They both felt it.
They spent the day together in Panama. It became such a whirlwind romance that they asked the captain to marry them on board.
He refused.
So they married in New Zealand instead.
Four years later, someone asked Zara if the cruise had been worth it.
She looked across the room at Philippe, then down at their daughter playing on the floor.
She smiled.
Story 4
Brian was dead.
He stood in a queue that stretched beyond sight. Ahead were enormous golden gates. Behind him stood countless others. Every creed, colour and religion imaginable. Nobody spoke.
Every so often a bell rang somewhere in the distance.
There was no sense of time. Only movement.
Brian knew who he was. He knew he was dead. He knew how it had happened.
A lorry.
One moment he was crossing the road. The next, nothing.
Fifty-two, he thought. That’s no age. It’s not fair.
The queue shuffled forward.
As he drew closer to the gates, he began to hear cheering. He couldn’t make out the words.
Then suddenly he was at the front.
“Brian Jackson.”
“Yes.”
The man behind the desk looked up.
“Saint Peter?” asked Brian.
A faint smirk crossed the man’s face.
“No.”
He glanced towards the gates.
“Those aren’t real either.”
Brian frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to.”
The man opened a large book.
“Right then. Time to move on. You’ve served your sentence.”
“My sentence?”
The man nodded.
“For the crime.”
Brian stared at him.
“What crime? I was a delivery driver. I never hurt anybody.”
The man closed the book.
He handed Brian a small gavel.
Brian turned it over in his hands.
“What do I do with this?”
The cheering grew louder.
The man pointed towards a brass bell hanging beside the desk.
“Ring it.”
“Why?”
The man smiled.
“Because you’ve just left Hell.”
Brian raised the gavel and struck the bell.
The crowd erupted.
Story 5
Agnes adored her two Persian cats.
Michael, her younger brother, hated them.
“They’re only cats,” he would say whenever he visited.
Agnes had married well, twice. Both husbands were gone now, leaving her with a fortune worth millions.
As her health failed, Michael became attentive.
“You really should make a will.”
“I already have.”
“Where is it?”
Agnes smiled.
“You’ll find it when the time comes.”
A few weeks later, Agnes passed away peacefully at home.
Around each cat’s neck hung a small barrel attached to its collar. Inside each barrel was half of Agnes’s original will.
The reading took place the following week.
Her friends received generous sums and left delighted.
Then the lawyer turned to Michael.
“You are the sole beneficiary of the remainder of Agnes’s estate.”
Michael smiled.
“However, you have fourteen days to locate the original will. If you fail, the entire estate will pass to the local cat home.”
Michael’s smile vanished.
For two weeks he searched.
Cupboards were emptied. Drawers were overturned. Carpets were lifted. Furniture was smashed.
The cats followed him from room to room.
Michael ignored them.
The deadline approached.
His frustration became anger.
His anger became rage.
When one of the cats brushed against his leg, he lashed out.
The second cat suffered the same fate.
On the fourteenth day, exhausted and defeated, Michael finally admitted he could not find the will.
The cat home inherited millions.
Click to reveal the AI story
Story 2 is the AI story. Thanks for playing
https://ko-fi.com/flashfictions
If you’d rather swap a coffee for something you can actually keep, the FlashFictions book is there for you.
Same weird ideas, just bound together.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0G34YZ9B2
Flash Fiction 