Posts tagged ‘short story’

2012, March 9

Predictable – by Estrella Azul

– Just where do you think you’re going with that?!

Maybe she’s asking another family member.

– Can you hear me, honey? I’m talking to you.

Oh, darn… You are talking to me.

– No! Stop right there!

Maybe if I go left, she’ll leave me alone.

– No!

Go right then?

– Don’t you dare take another step, Mister!

Oh, come on!

– How many times do I have to repeat myself?


– Take that filthy thing out of my kitchen!

But it’s mine!

– Give it here then.


– Come on, give it!


– I’m taking it to the garbage now. And don’t let me catch you looking for it.

You know how long it took me to catch that freakin’ mouse?

– Understood, kitten?


I’ll go catch and try to sneak another one in. You’re bound to go write a flash about this.

2011, August 26

Overwriting memories – by Estrella Azul

They were admiring the view as he leaned in to kiss her.

She was delighted with traveling to Paris. It was her favorite city in the world. The one she had been so happy in.

Now however, she was overwriting past memories while he charmed his new bride. Overwriting distant memories as the two of them strolled down cobblestone streets and dined in romantic restaurants. Overwriting cherished memories as they criss-crossed the Seine River and visited attractions, as they watched the city turn more magical with every second that passed.
She loved her groom more than life itself.

Obliviously, he kissed her forehead and glanced over the city again, after she graciously eluded his kiss; embracing him so strongly as she never had before, kissing him on the cheek.

There was one memory she could not overwrite.
There was only one kiss she desired to recall on top of the Eiffel Tower.

2011, May 27

Ten to life – by Estrella Azul

Staring at the crack in the ceiling, she contemplates on what color to have her room painted.
She’d love purple, except, she couldn’t afford changing the carpets as well. The color needs to be something that matches the red and black combo.
Grey – or would that be too morbid?
No, grey would be appropriate – she giggles at her decision after weighing the options.
Because after the bank loan gets approved, she’d be living on bread and water for the next ten years anyway, and she’s already got bars on her windows.

2011, March 16

Speaking volumes – by Estrella Azul

He had never met anyone quite like her.
He was content in his current relationship but something was missing; he sometimes wondered if he had made the right choice.
She was a wonderful friend, so easy to be around, and the person he became around her, himself, forced him to think of what he really wanted: a relationship where he was appreciated even for simply being there, a relationship he needn’t hide from anyone, a relationship that wasn’t perfect yet he couldn’t imagine living without.
He felt confused, yet more sure than ever. He didn’t want to settle anymore.

He wanted her!

Before he left, she invited him back to visit. That was his only ray of hope, but could only casually accept so as not to purposefully hurt his girlfriend back home, her, and himself.
However, he didn’t know how she felt. He couldn’t tell if she was only being nice and polite to a foreign man she had just met, or if she started sharing his emerging feelings.
He left, holding all the memories of their moments spent together closed deeply away in his heart.


After his departure she felt a hole in her heart – she couldn’t stop thinking of him.
The memory of his kiss on her cheek still lingered with her; something which had never happened before.
She typed countless emails she never sent, fearing it might have only been a crush.

It wasn’t.

She typed up and sent a quick email, casually reassuring him he would be sorely missed and invited him to visit her anytime he was ready to.


As he read her email, he understood even the words she hadn’t typed out.

Published today for the “Hone Your Skills Blogfest” hosted by Charity Bradford and Rosie Connolly

2011, January 23

Pen name in print ;)

January 4th started out cloudy and with a headache lingering on since the night before, so I honestly didn’t expect much of that day.
Then the doorbell rang.
The postman handed me over my package and my heart literally skipped a beat when I read the return address!

page BOFF

I had the Best of Friday Flash – Volume One under my Awaiting Publication list for a while and on August 18th #fridayflash history has been made: the eBook was out and available on SmashWords.

The more exciting news though is that since November 2010 the anthology is also out in paperback!

When I started writing and actually publishing my writing, I never imagined People would like my writing. I never thought I’d get published.
But people liked my flashes and poems. I got published in a few wonderful e-zines.
However, by far my biggest achievement is getting my flash accepted in the BOFF.
January has almost come to an end, yet it’s still somewhat unbelievable to look at my bookshelf and see the BOFF, to open it and see my pen name in the table of contents, to see my flash in print.
The book contains the best sixty-seven stories written during the very first year of #fridayflash.

Now, as I’m an emerging writer, a young Hungarian woman living in Romania, writing in English (and as far as I know, the first and only writer of #fridayflash filling these exact characteristics) – you can imagine my excitement and feeling way beyond honored to have one of my flash stories, Carving Terrific Jack-O’-Lanterns, included in the anthology among some of the most amazing writers’ pennings.

*excitedly jumps up and down practically bouncing off the ceiling*

Hope I made you curious enough to head over to Amazon or CreateSpace and order your copy of the Best of Friday Flash – Volume One ;)

2011, January 7

Sleeping Beauty of Palermo – by Estrella Azul

Rosalia Lombardo,

December 6th, 2010


I fell asleep early that night.


I had the strangest dream.

It began with my father walking into the nursery. He had been sobbing; I could unfailingly tell when he was sorrowful, he would be extra mindful and affectionate with me. However on this particular night his misery scared me. He kneeled by my bed for the longest time, not saying a word, simply watching me through teary eyes.

I wish I could’ve done something to lessen his grief.

Daybreak crept up on us too slowly.
He couldn’t deal with my sickness before and undoubtedly couldn’t deal with this evolvement, but he attempted to keep a clear mind. After he chose my favorite clothing, shoes and the gorgeous ribbon he had gifted me, he lifted me into his devoted arms optimistically saying “Let’s go to the doctor dear, he’s skilled to make it all better.”

The doctor accepted to help even though there wasn’t a lot he could do. He decided to use an unusual formula and technique for fixing me up; penning down the method into a memoir which would be lost for many years to come.

Both he and my father were sorely touched by my state. I was amongst the last of Doctor Salafia’s patients.

I was joyful to be in my favorite clothes and lovingly tucked in my new bed.

They titled me “Sleeping Beauty”, a name that’s been linked with me ever since.


It has been 90 years to the day since that faithful night.
I never awoke.


Ever since my friends and I visited the Capuchin catacombs of Palermo in Sicily, the memory of it is still one which stands out to all of us, one that left us tongue tied for the rest of that day.
The face of
Rosalia Lombardo is etched into my memory, still keeping me speechless, so I really hope this flash will reflect all the sadness I personally felt 92 years after her birth, while I can’t even begin to comprehend the sorrow her family must have felt.

Like a dear friend pointed out to me, I know the language and descriptions would be too mature for a child to use. But I guess that depends on what you believe happens after death; maybe we get more knowledge.

2010, November 5

Staying in touch – by Estrella Azul

– Have you spoken to your father yet? You’ve been home for three days now. He most certainly worries about you. – her mother inquired.
– Not yet Mom, however, he doesn’t even know I was away. I kept wanting to let him know before I left, but it was always after 10 PM by the time I remembered. – the unknown girl sincerely responded.
– He knows about your trip, I called him after you left.
– Now why would you do that? I was only gone for two weeks and it’s not like I traveled halfway around the globe.
– Well, I only wanted him to know it would be costly to phone you during that time.
– I’ll do it later. – she gave in.


– Hey Dad, sorry I haven’t called you since I got back, I’ve been insanely occupied catching up with work an…
– Hiii baaby! III’m not feeelin’ too wwell… II’ll call youu when III get beetter, okaaayyy? – the inebriated voice on the other end of the line interrupted her.
– Oh, sure… Bye D… – her father had already hung up.


*This is my third installment of the Unknown Girl. You can read the previous standalone flashes here:

A glance into the unknown girl’s thoughts

The unknown girl

%d bloggers like this: