Recycled 55Flash Fiction Friday

This photo has been placed here randomly and has absolutely nothing to do with this post.

Keeping in mind the rebellious nature of my fellow bloggettes, I woke this morning to find that one of the bloggettes, the GNW one, the red headed one, ok but I'm not going to tell you who that is ......had the nerve to not only recycle her dirty old used second hand 55's for this mornings post, but also had this to say about 55....

"...and in the manner of energy efficient bloggers the wide world over I am falling back on a tried and true formula. That's right folks, its time for 55 Flash Fiction. And since I am from Washington, I am especially good at conservation, so I am not even going to write any new ones."

There you have it, the confession!

Hmpfffhhh! Matters not that she has a brain that can produce 55's more rapidly than the entire staff over at Sepia Mutiny combined. She has to pull out the cheap recycling moves, and then
insult my 55 by calling it a tried and true formula for bloggers to fall back on?
Matters not, I shall not be made the fool, for I shall recycle today too!

Here are two of my favorite 55's. Because a certain redhead trouble maker recycled, you also may too!



They had both gone to Waller Street Elementary for 5 years, but Jeff had never offered her a ride home before. She said ok because her books were heavy.

Jeff rode faster, aiming toward a bump in the sidewalk. He sped away, that icky feeling that began when she got on his bike, now gone.




Nearly dusk, Mangalore station. Squeezing from the bus, backpack stubbornly wedging between each row of seats, curious eyes search, and find her soul.
Stepping off into a wall of steam, adjusting her pack, her shirt already soaked with sweat. Fear, confusion.
Finding a phone, she inserts 5 rupees as drops of sweat roll off her nose.