Flash Fiction – Channelling Dorothy

 

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Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

 

Footsteps approach and I screw my eyes tight shut and swallow back hot tears.

I sense Daddy standing there. Know he’ll be wearing his stupid mask but today, I’m not laughing.

‘I know a new apartment is hard.’ His voice wobbles. ‘But without my job…. You’ll make new friends.’

I push past him and tear open a cardboard box.

I like my old friends. My old house. The smell of honeysuckle. My swing creaking from the apple tree.  The sun streaming through my bedroom in the mornings.

My ruby red slippers sparkle and I slip them on. Click my heels 3 times. ‘There’s no place like home.’

 

I’m super excited it’s only 30 days now until The Sister is released! You can read here why an early review changed my life.

Channelling Dorothy was written for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word story inspired by a photo prompt. Hop over to host Rochelle’s blog and read the other entries here

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50 thoughts on “Flash Fiction – Channelling Dorothy

  1. Beautifully realised images – love the child’s voice, so very real. And so very different from anything I thought of! A really great story well told 🙂

  2. I don’t know the feeling of being uprooted but can imagine this is how it would feel…
    Congrats on the great review! I want your book too…

  3. I always consider stories like this a salute to my great home State of Kansas! Thanks, Louise. But, why was daddy wearing a mask?

    I have only one Oz book and that’s the original. I haven’t finished it yet.

  4. A sweet and sad story, with a childlike magic to the ending. I love how she clicks the heels of her ruby-red shoes three times, to make it feel like home. It has the feeling of a ritual.

  5. A lovely interpretation of the photo. It is always hard for a child when uprooted from the familiar, but they always make new friends more easily than they expect. Congratulations on the review. You must be incredibly excited! 🙂

  6. Great story, Louise. I’m elderly and I still miss the house where I was born. And that’s literal. I was born in the front bedroom. My dad used to go back and visit the house where he was born. Lovely description. I followed the link. Congratulations on your wonderful book reviews. Well done all round. 🙂 — Suzanne

Constructive criticism appreciated

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