Flash Fiction: Vengeance Pasta

Sounds like just desserts to me. Thanks, Sean.

Seanarchy

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Vengeance Pasta

By Sean C. Wright-Neeley

Widow Fannie Ridges was a hair shy of six-feet tall. Her milk-chocolate face held few wrinkles after being on the planet for seventy-six years. Her salt and pepper hair was relaxed, and cut in a bob, just above her shoulders. Seventy-six Fannie was, but she stood as straight as any thirty-year-old, and played like one, too. She was active in church and the neighborhood senior center, still mowed her yard, and carried a trash bag on her long walks to pick up litter.

Another one of Fannie’s passions was lending surrogate parenthood to the five stair-step children, down the street, ranging in ages from two to ten. Fannie wiped their noses, read them stories, tied their loose shoelaces, and gave them snacks. She made two apple cobblers one day – one for her church potluck, and another for the children to take home.

Days…

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