General Fiction posted November 29, 2022

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A ritual with a loved one gone.


by Barry Penfold

I step up on my tippy toes.My right hand seeks, unseeing, but knowing. Got it. Solid, clear. Amber liquid it bears.

Two glasses already set, and a measure nip near. I go to a chair, there are two. Pouring is difficult but it is done. A touch of water, not too much, just right.

Now I am settled and some memories are already there.You would think that there is no one else in the other chair, but I raise my glass into mid air, and without a doubt I hear.
"Cheers my son, so glad you are here."

100 Word Flash Fiction contest entry


Memories can be so real.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by avmurray at

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