Straw-man by Raymond Roy #FFfaw #fiction

He is a Liar!! A liar, a fornicator and I can’t stand it any longer! Mitzie had conviction in her voice as she addressed the Church board. Squeezing out a few tears completed the effect. The accused, Pastor Rigby, stunned, waiting for the church board to react. Rigby had perhaps squeezed a little out of his Church personal expenses, but what in the hell was she talking about?

Earlier that day, as the Church-administrator, Mitzie was denied vacation time by Rigby. By God he was going to pay. It started with texts to the church district office. Next lunch with the assistant pastor.

“Look Jeffery, you want that top spot don’t you? ” Jeffrey was puzzled until he saw the devious look in Mitzie’s eye. Give us a kiss Jeff, and leave the rest to me.

There was no wrong doing by Rigby but like any good strawman fallacy, her lies lit the straw-man on fire, Rigby couldn’t put it out.

Margarita glasses, “clink”in Cabo. Cheers Señor! Or should I say Senior Pastor Jeff!

Word Count-175

As a former Church Board member, Nothing could be truer than the idea of “truth being stranger than fiction”. Just as the Strawman mentioned in this story, the repeating of rumors,(even in denial of the rumors) only cultivate them toward being believed.

Written for Flash fiction for Aspiring Writers thanks to our gracious host Priceless Joy and thanks to Ellespeth for the photo prompt. To read other stories based on the photo prompt click here


Counting “sheep” by Raymond Roy #poetry #Fffaw #lambsofTartary

Grandfather, “where does cotton come from?”

My son,

In the land of the Mongols half way ’round the world, grows a plant, of fluffy pearls.

Balancing on bellybuttons, tiny lambs are propped, growing as a shrub-like plant, where-ever sheep scat is dropped.

Image credit: Wiki

Enter the fields on a breezy day, Lamb of Tartar plants, tend to sway.

Zephyr forces bend lambs boll stalk petite, toward nearby grass, for them to eat.

After rains have gone and grass is dead, the elfin lambs die, leaving cotton for thread.

On the mighty Steppe, lamb plants grow, providing cotton, to weave and sew.

Word Count- 99

Written for Flash fiction for Aspiring Writers graciously hosted by Priceless Joy. To read additional stories based on the photo prompt click Here.

A little history behind the content, in the 14th century there was believed to be a plant called the vegetable lamb of Tartary(Mongolia). The plant consisted of tiny lambs held in the air at the umbilical which was the plants stalk. When the stalks bent down toward nearby grass, it permitted the lambs to eat. Once the grasses dried up, the plant and tiny lambs died, leaving a cotton boll.


Copyright Raymond Roy 2018

“Spam” by Raymond Roy

Scrolling through my down button and then look away. Why is it so hard to concentrate. My boss’s eyes burning on the back of my head. “Jacob”. he sidled to my left. “Oh, hey Boss,”I blurted out. He had a warm smile, “Just saying good morning”, “Ga-go-good morning Mr. Springer.”

What the hell is wrong with me? Micro-electric shocks shoot from the base of my cerebellum up to my cortex. Ringing in my ears.

Deep breaths..walking out the side entrance. The breeze felt good. I leaned my cheek against the cool ceramic tile.

Lighting a smoke, drawing so hard, a rogue tobacco shred sparked through the paper.

Back in the office .

“Bing bong” chimes the intercom.

“Time for meds gentlemen.””Please line up”.

In line.

Mr. Springer walking out, stopped to talk with Mark the security guard.

“How you doing Mark?”

“Pretty good Dr. Springer, You?”

“Not bad. “Would you keep an eye on Jacob? “He’s been sitting at a desk staring blankly at the wall, going on about Spam emails.”

“Sure Thing Doc!”

Word Count-175

I have heard the expression perhaps for songwriting, “you write what you know”. I feel this holds true in story writing, fiction or non-fiction. I cannot think of too many people, including myself, that haven’t been somehow touched by mental health issues. Perhaps not full blown paranoia but, stress, anxiety/panic attacks, With information overload, 24 hour feeds…..just as our bodies need a healthy diet, so do our minds. For me, an escape is writing which challenges me on “what I know” and “where I stand”, rather than switching to a zombie scrolling mode copying and pasting the opinions of others.

Be well my Friends


Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers host by our gracious host, Priceless Joy thanks Joy.

Photo Credit to Enisa. Thank you!

Blueberry Hill By Raymond Roy #FffAW #humor

Wild blueberry season was in full bloom. Samantha and Sarah sat with their bucket on the hillside as they weren’t permitted to pass over the bridge to the fields.

Frustrated, “What the Heck? Who ever heard of toll bridge that only takes credit cards. ” Samantha grumbled.

“Look at all the heavy bushes on the other side”. Sarah sighed. “Hey here comes Mom to the rescue!”

Walking up to the bridge, their Mom looked puzzled. She looked to the girls.. “Mom it’s a custom card reader designed by the hipster artist that owns the fields. Here let me show you.” Samantha took her Moms card and slid it between the clothed” buttcheeks” of the card reader. A robotic message sounded, “Do you want a receipt?” “NO thank you!” Their mom replied.. “We will leave that for another day”…they all laughed .

Word Count-142

Written for Flash Fiction for aspiring writers. Thank you Priceless Joy for hosting. Thanks and Photo Credit to Yinlan Z for the photo prompt.

To read other prompt inspired stories click HERE



20$ on pump two (the vengeful soul patch) by Raymond Roy #Fffaw Flash fiction

Hypnotic embers, a lavanous symphony culminating with a gaseous crackling POP!

Tiny meteor, a glowing spark shoots toward my face, landing just under my lower lip. I snap out of my dream state. I think nothing of it.

Back home, yawning, Monday morning mirror, Oddly, a soul patch had grown in overnight where the ember had landed.

Late for work, stopping by the local gas station for a cup, I ran into former “friend” Mike, that I had just as soon avoid.

In front of me, I could see Mike’s smirking reflection in the mirror behind the register. Suddenly, the hairs of my soul patch, grew as if they were a web being cast by Spider-Man. The knarly hairs wrapped around Mike’s throat drawing me so close I could smell the rancid neck sweat trapped in the rolls on the back of his bulbous head.

Just as quickly as it began, the vengeful strands retracted.

Mike stunned, smirk-free.

“Just the coffee sir?”

“Yes, Oh, and 20$ on pump two please?

Word Count-171 words

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to our gracious host Priceless Joy for more information click here

Photo Credit: Enisa (thank you)

To read other stories based on this photo click here.


Friends With Benefits By Raymond Roy #FFfAW

Friends with Benefits by Raymond Roy

Flutter flutter flutter, the golden finch landed on my open palm. CRRack! Splitting open one of the many jet black sunflower seeds I held. “Finch”, “You are a truly handsome creature”.

“Thank you” Finch replied. And you are a gracious human being.

I so enjoyed our mornings together. “Finch, you’ve lost a feather.”

The tiny bright yellow plume had landed between two seeds almost like a quill in an old inkwell.

“That is no lost feather” Finch happily announced. “ it is a gift! A gift for your kindness”. Acrobatically Finch raised up his left leg. A paper scroll wrapped around it. “ Go ahead, take the scroll”. I listened to my golden friend.

Finch darted to my shoulder. “Take the feather from the seeds.”

The tip of the tiny quill was full with black ink.

“Finch? “

“Trust me” he said.

“Now my good hearted man, you have one wish. All you have to do is write it on the scroll, and it will come true”.

Taking the quill I began, I wish for..

Word Count- 175

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by Priceless Joy. Thank you Joy:)

To read additional stories based on the photo prompt prompt click here

“Harnessing the Sun” By Raymond Roy #FFfaw

Alexandre.. Alexandre! Are you still in bed?

“Oui Maman! Yes, I am coming! Walking downstairs from his upstairs loft.

“What is wrong with you? There are pigs to feed”, take out the rubbish to the burn pile. You are nineteen years old Alex. King Louis Philipe himself could walk through that door and you would probably sit there day-dreaming!

Shaking head in appeasement to his mother he went about her bidding.

Alex had been doing more than sleeping in. During this time of year the morning sun tracked perfectly through his thick burlap curtains. The focused energy was awe inspiring. He was fascinated by his secret experiments with what he was calling chemical batteries. Noting yesterday that when exposed to heat, they became quite volatile. Heat was unstable,hard to control. Playing with his prisms (if he could only better understand the less volatile visible light potential, the reaction would HAVE to be more stable).

He was right..

Word Count-158

In 1839 France, Alexandre-Edmond Becquerel, at age 19, would later be credited with creating the first photovoltaic device in his father’s laboratory.

This was written for FFfAW Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Great thanks to our host PricelessJoy! To read additional stories based on the photo prompt, please click here



Lemonade Stand By Raymond Roy #FFfAW

Photo Credit:Fandango

“Gonna be dark soon.” “Get some paper and my Mom’s reading glasses into that last patch of sunlight and get a fire going. I’ll gather some wood”.

“I say we go back before they notice we are gone!”

“There’s no going back Luke. I made sure of that. I left a note on your Dads nightstand . They”ll never accept us being step siblings and boyfriend and girlfriend.” ” Parents! They have all the power, make crappy life choices, and we have to deal with the ramifications. Well we are going to turn these lemons into the worlds largest lemonade stand.”

Word count-100

Written for Priceless Joy’s 100 word Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge click Here to read the rest of the stories.



“Free Delivery” by Raymond Roy #flashfiction #FFFAW

Image/ photo prompt provided by Yinglan Z.

And here young ladies, we have a life-sized skeletal model of the extinct Tyrannosaurus Rex from the Cretaceous Period almost 70 million years ago. Following along the railing, our next exhibit of extinct species is a full sized scale model of the male of our species. The smaller of two is what was referred to as a boy. Males became extinct around the year 3000 A.D. after the onset one of the greatest discoveries in our history, a vaccine that eliminated the Y chromosome. This vaccine was the final step after human cloning had been perfected in eliminating the inferior sex of our species. It was the all women Congress of 2900 A.D. that passed the federal law, stripping all males of their rights as citizens of this great world of ours. Some say that women had had enough around the early 2000’s where misogyny was common place. This Bill was funded by Amazon, those dimwitted males didn’t even catch on that Amazon was founded by us, the Amazonians. Talk about, signed, sealed, and delivered!

Word count:175

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. A flash fiction photo challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less). This and other stories in this challenge can be found Here. Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting.

Society’s Tourniquet By Raymond Roy #FFFAW

Rattle Rattle, “spare change?” , “help a brother out”? 
Pan handling, it’s not so bad. You never have to worry about making eye contact with anybody. Although the concrete IS hot in the summer and sucks the life’s blood out of you in the winter. My knees ache, and butt gets numb at times. Don’t have to worry about feet getting cold since I left those back in Afghanistan. 

Hard concrete flashback: snapping in honing our marksmanship skills in the Marine Corps. The circle was asphalt, the rifle sling was tourniquet tight. We knelt facing a target, not firing, just developing muscle memory. Bam!! I saw stars as the DI slapped the rifle against my face, “tighten it up maggot”.

 Bam!! Back to reality, a car backfires. 

A long legged fur coat wearing high society type approaches the entrance to the high rise apartments with her fru-fru K9. She stops momentarily, takes out a tissue and wipes the dog’s arse. 

What’s wrong with this picture? 
Rattle Rattle, “spare change?” , “help a brother out”? 

Word count-174

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 

Semper Fidelis to all my Marine brethren.