Fill-in-the-Blank Flash Fiction Friday

Here’s your Fill-in-the-Blank Flash Fiction Friday opening sentence.

If _____________ had given a damn about ___________________ she/he would have taken the ____________________ to the _________________ long before today, just as __________________ had asked, and avoided the unfortunate encounter with ___________________.

The “Rules”

  • Fill in the blanks.
  • Finish the story in 1,000 words.
  • Post your story in the comments section below by the next Friday for everyone to enjoy. Be proud of your work!

We’ll review all submissions near the end of the year and will select winners to be published in the first Fill-in-the-Blank Flash Fiction ebook*.

Sending you mad writing mojo….


**Winners will be based on adherence to length; originality; and a clear beginning, middle, and end. Plot not necessary – can explore a memory, a thought, or an emotion. Twists and surprise endings are a plus.

1 thought on “Fill-in-the-Blank Flash Fiction Friday

  1. Pocket Full of Posies
    By Johnnie Mazzocco

    If Margo had given a damn about her job she would have taken the envelope to the post office long before today, just as her boss had asked, and avoided the unfortunate encounter with the floral cart.

    She closed the cash drawer at her desk, double locked it, shoved the key down her bra, and double checked to make sure the large manila envelope was in her shoulder bag. Lunch bag in hand, she headed out the front door of Schiester Private Investigating, into the humid summer air. Busses, cars, and cyclists surged and receded with green and red traffic lights, keeping schedules, doing life, oblivious.

    She turned left at the corner, with a fresh bite of egg salad sandwich in her mouth, not seeing the floral cart, a white painted wood box built around a bicycle with bright bunches of flowers wedged in the back. As soon as her foot hit the pavement off the curb, the cart hit her: front tire to left shin, handlebar to ribs.

    Margo went down grimacing, unchewed egg salad wedged in her right cheek like big a wad of chew, tire tread up her calf, sandwich converted to open-face, sad and limp on the street.

    The young man driving the cart leaned the bike against the nearby bus stop sign post and rushed to Margo’s side.

    “Ma’am,” he said. “Are you okay? I didn’t see you there.”

    “Well, I would hope to God not,” said Margo, chewing up the last of the sandwich before she swallowed and struggled to her feet with his help.

    He maneuvered her to the curb and helped her sit down before going to gather her belongings for her. He returned with her shoulder bag and lunch bag and a bouquet of pink posies.

    Margo immediately softened. “Aw, that sure is sweet of you.”

    “Least I could do,” he said.

    He extended his hand, helped her up, and slipped the bag over her shoulder, then positioned the posies in the bag, and handed over her dirty lunch bag.

    “I’m so sorry,” he said.

    “Don’t you worry,” said Margo. “Shit happens.”

    “Indeed, it does.”

    They said their goodbyes and went their ways in separate directions, Margo walking double her original speed, with a slight limp, to get to the post office and back at her desk on time.

    Better not to poke the bear and best not to give him any more reason to hover his sweaty bald head, which he perpetually dabbed with the white hanky he kept in his back pocket, over her desk while she worked.

    He wasn’t all too happy with her, anyway, discovering the envelope still lay in the desk drawer that morning. Upon spying the piece of mail, his face flushed red, his hands started to shake, and he had to sit down to maintain his balance.

    “Are you all right, Harry?” Margo had said.

    “Just get the damn envelope to the post office. Please. Today.”

    “All right, all right. I will.”

    “Today. You hear me?”

    “Good gosh, Harry… What’s gotten into you?”

    “Just trust me on this. Don’t you understand? That envelope has to get there tomorrow!”

    “Okay, okay… I’ll overnight it.”

    “If you’d sent it two days ago like I asked, we wouldn’t be in this pickle.”

    “What pickle? Harry, what have you got yourself into?”

    “I can’t discuss it, Margo. Trust me, you don’t need to know. It wouldn’t be safe— Just get it there. Pronto. You hear me?!”


    Relieved to see the post office two blocks down, Margo relaxed her pace, and by the time she was inside, she noticed the pain in her calf was worse.

    She got in the line of five people and checked the big, round clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes to send the envelope and get back to the office before Harry blew a gasket.

    When she was second in line, she opened her shoulder bag and resituated the posies to retrieve the envelope only to discover that it was gone.

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