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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner

Bag of Memories

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The last time, everything fit in three duffles. Four years ago, mom and dad left me here to perish—that’s what I thought then when your parents sent you to college in Belgium, a foreign country with foreign faces, foreign culture, and foreign language. Just me, my three duffel bags, and I in a jumbled mess.

I never would have thought I would come to miss this place. Its stinky corridors and noisy neighbors is a complete contrast to its neat façade but somehow I learned that it wasn’t so bad after all. My neighbors were fellow students from different countries and by the end of our fourth year, we’ve already become a one big, happy family. We laughed at each other’s flaws and cried for each other’s woes; one’s fight is everyone’s battle at the end of the day.

As I stopped before the cab that is taking me to the airport, I couldn’t help but take one last look and sigh. There’s so much memories and love in here. The last time, everything fit in my three duffles. I wonder if there’s a duffle bag huge enough to fit this place…

Word Count: 185


Written for Roger Shipp’s flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction For the Purposeful Practitioner. An opening sentence is provided and we are to craft a story to under 200 words length. This week’s prompt reminds me of my college days. I was sent to a boarding school, too- not to perish but to have the best experience of my life. 😀

This week’s prompt is: “The last time, everything fit in three duffles…”

Enjoy more stories here:

Little Prince

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We were within a mile-and-a-half of the service roads when we found it. Amidst the colossal snow-capped mountain cliffs was a barely visible wicker basket resting on the black earth.

“There it is!” Vear shouted as he yanked me towards the rock. Inside the basket was a cooing child, a boy with eyes bluer than the cerulean skies, warmth by a white cloth with a gray dire wolf print on it. Two hours ago, a crow came to our shack with a message from Maester Andre.

FFPP #3

“Little prince,” we cried in chorus. I clutched his frail little body and pressed it to my chest to give him human warmth. Vear looked over the cliffs, watched the snow hawks wheeling overhead the mountain winds and said, “Wife, we must hasten and leave now. The kingdom will be at war soon.”

We quickly tiptoed away from the snow-etched cliff, my mind teeming with questions of the unknown that awaits us. “Wait! What should we call him?” I asked.

Vear stopped and looked tenderly into the child’s eyes, “Jan. From now on, we will call him Jan.”

“Jan.” I repeated with a smile.

Word Count: 177


Written for Roger Shipp’s new flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction For the Purposeful Practitioner. An opening sentence is provided and we are to craft a story to under 200 words length.

This week’s prompt is: We were within a mile-and-a-half of the service roads when we found it.”

Enjoy more stories here:

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