Jim LaFleur

“The Chessboard Society” by Jim LaFleur

Submitted to Contest #277

The copper tang of blood lingered in the air—or perhaps it was just his imagination. Lionel's breathing came in shallow bursts, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that betrayed his mounting dread. The blindfold pressed against his temples, its fabric rough and unforgiving, like sandpaper against his feverish skin. Beyond his darkness, the world pulsed with sound—leather boots scraping against ancient stone, brittle candle flames dancing in an unseen draft, and the low murmurs of the Chessboard Society's cloaked figures. Their voices wo...

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“The Skydiving Surprise” by Jim LaFleur

Submitted to Contest #276

There I was, sweating enough to replenish the world’s oceans twice over, sitting across the table from the most adventurous person I had ever met. Let’s call her Ava—because that was her name—and she’d just suggested we head for something “spontaneous” after dinner. Now, when someone says “spontaneous” on a date, I’m thinking coffee shop poetry reading, perhaps roller skating. But this was Ava, whose list of thrills practically included wrestling tornadoes for sport. “Skydiving,” she chirped, eyes sparkling like they’d just been polished wit...

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“The Infinite Library of Lost Souls” by Jim LaFleur

Submitted to Contest #275

The chill of rigor mortis crept through my limbs as I followed the black cat's darting figure, its eyes glinting like yellow lanterns in the dim light. My fingers, once accustomed to the fluid dance over typewriter keys, were now awkward, wooden appendages. I glanced back, expecting nothing but the manuscript's ghostly outline on my desk, and felt an unwelcome sense of dread coil around my thoughts. The chair lay toppled, testament to my end. Moments, hours, perhaps days later, the cat had appeared, capricious and indifferent, a shadow made ...

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“The Doll Maker’s Reflection” by Jim LaFleur

Submitted to Contest #274

Margaret's weathered fingers traced the delicate stitches along the doll's hemline, her pride swelling at another perfectly executed creation. Afternoon sunlight filtered through her workshop's lace curtains, casting intricate shadows across the wooden workbench where dozens of half-finished dolls lay in various states of completion. The rich scent of chamomile tea mingled with the mustier odors of fabric scraps and aging wood. "There you are, little one," she murmured, adjusting the tiny bonnet on the doll's head. "Ready for Sarah's birthda...

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“The Accidental Champion of Cringe” by Jim LaFleur

Submitted to Contest #273

Barnaby Hazelwood received the invitation on a gloriously mediocre Thursday morning. It arrived with the dull thunk of the post, nestled between a glossy flyer for a strangely enthusiastic armchair expo and an electricity bill that promised nothing short of devastation. The invitation, encased in an envelope so modestly beige it deserved a commendation for being inconspicuous, bore the tantalizing promise of “An Evening of Opportunities.” Barnaby, who fancied himself a man of burgeoning possibilities—or at least, a man who hoped his boss wou...

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“Familiar Strangers” by Jim LaFleur

Submitted to Contest #271

Sunlight filtered through the window, its golden beams slicing through the stillness of the bookstore with precision, casting delicate patterns upon the worn wooden floor. Dust motes danced lazily in the air, like whispered secrets yet to be caught. Francesca wandered between bookshelves, her fingers brushing against faded spines, feeling the familiar tingle of forgotten stories. The air was thick with the scent of aged paper, binding glue, and that peculiar sweetness of time captured and conserved within the ink-laden pages. The bell above ...

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“Whispers in the Candlelight” by Jim LaFleur

Submitted to Contest #270

The clock on the wall ticked softly, each second stretching into the next with a languid ease. It was late, long past the hour when the rest of the world surrendered to sleep. Yet, Amelia found herself awake, drawn to the quiet hush of the kitchen like a moth to a flame. The moon hung low outside the window, casting silvery beams that sliced through the gauzy curtains, painting spectral patterns across the worn wooden floor. She stepped barefoot onto the cool tiles, the faint chill seeping up through her soles. The air was thick with the sce...

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“Sofa King Comfy” by Jim LaFleur

Submitted to Contest #269

In the heart of his apartment—an adorable symphony of clutter that masqueraded as chaos while actually being a carefully orchestrated mess—sat Larry Davis. Here, in the heart of Cushionville, on a morning as routine as a loveseat discard bin at a second-rate furniture outlet, Larry’s sourcerous quest for couch perfection continued. Couch catalogs soared in haphazard stacks, a veritable Jenga of fabric swatches from faux leather to the most treacherous velour. He was deep into the final draft of his scathing review for The Couch Potato Connoi...

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“Truth Be Told” by Jim LaFleur

Bill awoke to the familiar brass ensemble of chirping birds outside his bedroom window, their orchestrated clamor a stark contrast to the silence that occupied the other side of the bed. Linda had already slipped away to immerse herself in her morning preparations, no doubt perfecting each aspect of her appearance, from her meticulously coiffed hair down to her unblemished outfit selected with the precision of a fashion general going to war. As Bill ambled into the kitchen, the scent of brewing coffee permeated the air, mingling with the sce...

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“The Writer’s Block” by Jim LaFleur

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #252

Jack Thompson’s fingers drummed a chaotic symphony against his cluttered desk, surrounded by the remnants of unrelenting perfectionism—crumpled paper mountains, an army of empty coffee cups, and the flickering screen of his laptop displaying the solitary bulwark of his creative struggle: one stubborn sentence. This single line of text, which he revised with the same unyielding dedication some might reserve for disarming a bomb, had been his nemesis and companion for five torturous years. “The sun erupted over the horizon like an overzealous ...

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“The Unintended Masterpiece” by Jim LaFleur

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #246

Once, in the recesses of Josh’s cluttered study—a space so densely populated with crumpled papers and half-finished manuscripts it could have been mistaken for the lair of a particularly literary breed of dragon—a plot of exquisite pettiness took root. Josh, an author whose disposition was as sunny as a thundercloud, and whose success in the literary world was comparable to a lead balloon in an origami competition, harbored a grudge. This was no ordinary grudge; it was an epic, monumental, could-be-the-subject-of-a-Greek-tragedy kind of grud...

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