Flash Fiction Scrap #4

It wasn't so much that he loved the weather. It was more that it was consistent; the chattering of the afternoon storms on his shelter was one of his few comforts. Turnips, some spring onions, and scraggly rosemary bush were the staples of his diet, as well as the occasional crawling and hopping things. He hadn't had a poor reaction yet, though the blue hopping ones made his mouth itch. He knew one thing for certain—he'd never use a budget agency again.

Flash Fiction Scrap #3

The letters she received were the oddest things, she thought. Little envelopes closed with great precision—they certainly were a pain to open. The card the envelopes contained was usually a dull sort of beige and blank, aside from the word "Welcome" in a wholly obnoxious script.

Scrap #2

Alice's parents would have had a fit, of course. She dried the last of the dishes, briefly suppressing the urge to drop one for dramatic effect. This is was less so because she felt that there was something necessarily wrong with dropping a plate, but more so that the cleaning bit would have been incredibly inconvenient, and her cat had a habit of eating things he shouldn't.

For his part, Jasper, her tabby, stared at her with a curious combination of love and total disinterest.

"Wouldn't it be an interesting ride, Jasper?"

Jasper, for his part, refused to meow on cue and walked off to investigate something more interesting.

Alice smirked. If that cat thought he was ever going to get another can of tuna behaving like that, he was sorely mistaken.

Scrap #1

She briefly imagined marrying the mailman. No—he would do something so irredeemably stupid at his bachelor's party (that she no doubt would get wind of), that she'd have to call the whole thing off.

She imagined scissors in hand, hovering over her wedding dress, thundering notes of practicality and rage abounding in her mind. A decision is made. She would move on, she would find another. She would wear the dress again with pride, spite.