Flash fiction: The Roper Brothers’ Garage

November 19, 2014November 20, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 63 Comments

Ivy always took the car to the Roper brothers in the village, even though she knew they rolled their eyes behind her back and over-charged her.

‘Sounds like it’s the carborator or the catatonic convertor,’ Gordon would say, his voice echoing under the bonnet and Greg would cough and turn away to stop himself from laughing out loud. Ivy wasn’t stupid; she knew.

It was the smell of the place that kept her coming back to be made a fool of: oily dust and petrol fumes, warm leather and cigarettes. The smell of her father; dead and gone these past sixty years.

I’m delighted that this week Rochelle has chosen one of my photos for our flash fiction prompt. Why not join in with the 100-word challenge, or read what other writers made of the picture.

I’m also delighted that a short piece of my non-fiction about living with teenagers has been published on the Tin House blog today.

Flash fiction: After The End

November 12, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 57 Comments

Before the end, Flora liked to dress in boys’ clothes and catch the train to the city, just for the hell of it. She wore trainers for speed, put her hood up, and slouched. She practiced saying ‘yeah’ and ‘nah’, as if she was bored by everything. Sometimes she even painted stubble on her chin using stage makeup.

She only stole small things – lighters, matches, pocket torches, one-size-fits-all gloves. She was a fast runner and never went back to the same shop a second time.

Then, when the end came, she was lucky: Flora was a boy, with items to trade.

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Another Friday Fictioneers 100-word story, inspired by the picture, provided this week by Rochelle herself. Click here to read other people’s or here to join in. And do let me know what you think about mine.

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Click here to find out about my novel, published early next year by Fig Tree / Penguin in the UK, Tin House in the US, House of Anansi in Canada, and various other publishers around the world.

Flash fiction: Small Talk

November 5, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 75 Comments

Nan imagined sitting for ever in the car beside Viv. Until time deflated the tyres.
‘The weather’s been nice lately,’ Viv said.
The chassis would drop as the axles rusted.
‘Lovely,’ Nan said, looking ahead at the car park.
The rubber wipers would dry and crack, and as the months passed they would melt onto the windscreen.
‘For the time of year,’ she added.
The colour would leach from the paintwork, changing from red to rusty brown.
‘Hmm,’ agreed Viv.
Small animals would make a nest in the boot.
And Nan would find the courage to lean across to Viv and say, ‘Don’t go’.

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Another Friday Fictioners 100-word flash. Click here to read some more. Here to join in. Thanks to Jean L Hayes for the picture. I’d really like to know what you think – constructive criticism, or just a hello – so please do leave a comment.

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And if you like this story, you might like my novel Our Endless Numbered Days, out early next year. Click here to find out more, or here to add it to your Goodreads to-read list.

Flash fiction: Unknown

October 1, 2014October 1, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 58 Comments

I thought he was a reporter or an evangelist when I saw him through the front door glass. He was holding a book; clinging to it as if it was the thing that kept him from running away.

I put the chain on. ‘Hello?’ I said.

He was about my age, twenty-two, familiar yet unknown. ‘Is my father in?’ he said.

I was confused. ‘I’m sorry, you must have the wrong house,’ I said. He held the book up, my husband’s book, the one that made him famous.

‘Gil Coleman,’ the man said and he tapped the cover with a forefinger. ‘My father.’

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This 103-word piece of flash fiction is inspired by the picture above. It’s rather a leap this week, but the idea that we don’t know what’s on that stick, led me to thinking about other things that are unknown, which led me to my story. Friday Fictioneers is an online writing group where we all write 100 words or so from a picture supplied to us weekly by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (and this week provided by Kent Bonham). You can join in here, or read other people’s stories here.

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In other news, I’ve written a blog post about how I got an agent, which you might be interested to read. And my novel, Our Endless Numbered Days, is now available to pre-order from Amazon in the UK and US, and of course from your local independent bookshop (hopefully).

Flash fiction: Un-telling

September 24, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 63 Comments

The early morning light filters through the empty bottles and stains my nightdress blue, green and red as I lean over the back of a kitchen chair, waiting, breathing. It had been quite some party. I remembered Rex, drunk on happiness, breaking his promise to me, and telling our guests to mark their diaries for seven months when they would be returning for a christening.

So many glasses raised, so many congratulations, so much love.

And now as another cramp grips me, I think about all the un-telling I will have to do, starting with Rex.

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This is a 96-word piece of flash fiction based on the picture prompt above, this week provided by Marie Gail Stratford. It’s part of the Friday Fictioneers group run by Rochelle Wisoff-Field. Rochelle dedicates a great deal of her time each week to uploading, visiting and commenting on all our pieces of writing. To join in with your own story, visit Rochelle’s website here, or to read some of the other stories based on this prompt click here.

Flash fiction: Mirror Image

September 11, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 57 Comments

Flora heard Rex whispering in the bathroom.

‘Dad?’ She knocked on the door. ‘Are you okay?’

‘It’s just your mother,’ her father called.

‘Dad?’ She rattled the handle. ‘Unlock the door, please.’ The bolt was drawn back. Rex, in his dressing gown, led her into the chilly room.

The shower curtain had been pulled across. ‘Look,’ he said, his hand on the edge of the plastic. Flora’s heart leapt. Her father drew back the curtain, revealing an empty bath, cooling water, and on the wall, the large mirror. ‘Do you see her?’ he said.

Flora saw only herself and an old man.

This is a 102-word piece of flash fiction based on the picture prompt above, this week provided by Janet Webb. It’s part of the Friday Fictioneers group run by Rochelle Wisoff-Field. Rochelle dedicates a great deal of her time each week to uploading, visiting and commenting on all our pieces of writing. To join in with your own story, visit Rochelle’s website here, or to read some of the other stories based on this prompt click here.

Short story: Food

August 28, 2014August 28, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 31 Comments

For almost a week in April or perhaps May – I had long lost track of the months by then – we ran out of food. The snow had melted but the cruel earth still refused to yield and no animals struggled in our traps.

I dreamed of Ute’s apple strudel as plump as a breast under a peasant’s blouse, and when I woke the phantom scent of cinnamon and pastry continued to tease me.

A mile from the cabin, we found a bed of heather which an insect had colonised, laying its grubs in gobs of spittle. My father and I ate them all.

This is a 100-word piece of flash fiction based on the picture above. It’s actually a summer re-run…our group mistress, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is on holiday, and so has suggested that all us Friday Fictioners can also have a week’s holiday and dig out our story from August 2012.

This scene, changed and expanded, actually made it into my novel. I love the idea that all these flash fiction pieces, mine and other people’s might have a life beyond our weekly writings.

To read more of what has been written in response to this picture click here. Or to join in and write your own, visit Rochelle’s website, here.

Flash fiction: Parked

August 21, 2014August 21, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 30 Comments

It was a Tuesday when Nanette decided to tackle the garden; two days after she had buried her father. She found a box of tools under the sink, the cardboard falling apart and everything inside rusted. How many years had it sat there she wondered. She drove into town and hired a petrol strimmer, gloves and hat with a visor.

She cut a swathe through from the house to the bank, where it dropped away to the sea. And there, incongruously at the end of the garden, she uncovered her mother’s car. How many years had it sat there she wondered?

For those who don’t know how Friday Fictioneers works, this picture, this time from Roger Bultot, is our inspiration for our weekly online writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Each story is only about 100 words long, so why not read a few others: click here to read some more or to join in.

And please comment below with any suggestions on mine, or just to show you’ve visited.

For any US readers who are interested, I’ve recently been able to reveal the North American jacket for my novel, Our Endless Numbered Days, which will be released on 17th March 2015. You can see it here.

Short story: Whitewash

August 8, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 49 Comments

He adjusted his binoculars to bring the house into focus as he had done a thousand mornings. He watched the girl on the roof in ragged shorts hanging out washing. He liked it best when she bent over the basket.

Later she was at the kitchen window, working hard – preparing vegetables, cooking, washing up. She never ate with the family; always alone on the fenced-in balcony and quickly, looking over her shoulder. Scared.

The next morning the man of the house was painting the balcony wall.

He focused his binoculars and could just make out the letters H E L before they too, were gone.

For those who don’t know how Friday Fictioneers works, this picture, this time from Bjorn Rudberg , is our inspiration for our weekly online writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Each story is only about 100 words long, so why not read a few others: click here to read some more or to join in.

And please comment below with any suggestions on mine, or just to show you’ve visited.

I’m very excited to let you know that one of my short stories – Baker, Emily and Me – has won the BBC Radio 4 Opening Lines competition, which means it will be read out on Radio 4 on 29th August at 3:45 BST. So do listen out for it and let me know what you think. For those readers not in the UK, it will be up on the BBC website for a week afterwards.

Flash fiction: Chip of Ice

July 16, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 43 Comments

Even as Robert packs up his wife’s papers he is aware of it. He glances at his crying daughter while they stuff her mother’s clothes into bin-liners and knows he isn’t looking just from sympathy. His son is silent as together they lift the ram’s head into the back of the car and Robert makes a mental note.

Driving away the car-load of a life brings tears of his own, blurring the road, and still something apart and yet inside him records the emotion.

When the children are asleep, Robert goes to his room and writes it all down.

Graham Greene famously said that every writer should have a chip of ice in their heart. I think he might have been refering to keeping control during the writing process, rather than when research gathering, but perhaps the same idea applies.

For those who don’t know how Friday Fictioneers works, this picture, this time from Adam Ickes, is our inspiration for our weekly online writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Each story is only about 100 words long, so why not read a few others: click here to read some more or to join in.

And please comment below with any suggestions on mine, or just to show you’ve visited.