Flash Fiction Fan Fiction

Helloooo, everyone! It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, but that’s mostly because the list of book reviews and character interviews I need to work on has gotten pretty intimidating.

But, while I work on those, I might as well give you something to enjoy. Because everyone likes some Captain America fanfiction, right? Titleless as of yet, I think you’ll still enjoy it. Oh, and this takes place right after the Marvel One-Shot Agent Carter, but you’ll still get it if you haven’t seen it. 😉

Peggy searched the small crowd for a familiar face.
“Peggy! Over here!” Howard’s voice called out. She pushed her way towards him and fell into a slightly awkward hug. “How has Flynn been treating you?”
Peggy smiled. “Let’s just say I’m glad to be done with him. How’ve you been?”
He shrugged, but she detected a hint of sorrow on his face. “Pretty good.” He averted his gaze. “Well, let’s drop your bags off in the hotel and head out for something to eat. Maybe some–” He stopped, and it wasn’t that hard to guess what he was going to say.
“I’d love some fondue,” Peggy said cheerfully, the fakeness carefully hidden. “You know you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, Howard.”
He nodded and picked up her bags. “Right. Well, let’s get going.”
The hotel wasn’t too far, and Howard told her it was only temporary, until SHIELD was officially started and she had time to look for a house. After eating, Howard dropped her off at the hotel, and she retired early. The next morning, Howard took her on a tour of the building that he’d purchased for SHIELD. The tour was achingly long, and then Howard got an odd look on his face and stopped by a door. “This is your office,” he announced, opening the door.
Peggy stepped inside, gazing around at the beautiful room. The desk was beautiful, and Howard had been thoughtful enough to put a few special touches on the room, including a picture of Steve on the desk. She touched the frame, gazing down at the tall, muscular man in the picture.
“I’ll just leave you alone,” Howard said quietly, slipping out of the office. Peggy sat in the leather office chair, setting down the briefcase she’d brought with her. She opend it and set a smaller frame next to the picture. Steve, skinny. Before and after.
She closed her eyes and reached into her briefcase again. She dug around until she found her pocket knife. Then she flipped it open, found an unobtrusive corner of the desk and carefully drew the knife across its surface.
Seventy Years Later
The carving had been worn and smoothed by time. The letters hadn’t disappeared, the handwriting achingly familiar. His finger traced the word. Steve.
If she could’ve known that he’d be reading this years later, decades later, would she have put more? Would she have written something to him? Would she have left her feelings, her thoughts, her love, just a simple note?
If only he could go back.
A lone tear trickled down his cheek and landed on the desk.
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The Answer

“Please wake up, Betsy,” Alice whispered.

Alice gripped her sister’s hand as she listened to the heart monitor beep. She hadn’t slept in days while her sister was in the hospital, and her face was pale and drawn. Her sister’s white face looked so small on the pillow. Alice bowed her head in silent prayer.

“God, please, heal my sister,” she pleaded silently. “I need her so much. My parents told me when I was young that you listen to every prayer, and that you’ll answer. I know I haven’t been the most faithful,” she gulped back tears, “but I need you to heal Betsy.” Alice laid her head on the hospital bed, struggling to hold back tears. She drifted off to sleep, not noticing when the heart monitor’s beeping slowed and then, finally, stopped.

“Miss Alice?” a nurse asked softly, gently shaking Alice awake. Alice sat up, struggling to hold back a yawn. She looked down at her sister’s still figure. The hand she was still grasping was icy cold.

“I’m sorry, Miss Alice,” the nurse whispered sympathetically. “She-she died only a few minutes ago.

Later that day, Alice dragged her feet in through the autumn leaves that had fallen and covered the sidewalk. She looked up at the gray cloud-covered sky. A single raindrop fell and landed on the end of her nose. She wiped it away harshly.

“God, why didn’t you answer me? I asked you to heal Betsy, but you didn’t,” she whispered angrily.

A voice deep inside her soul whispered to her. I did answer. But I have something better in mind for both of you. Just trust Me.

With No Hope Left

Hi, everyone! I loved writing this little story. Almost made me cry. I hope reading this will start a fire of passion withing you, and inspire you to do something. Please reblog it and share it so others can feel that passion to do something, too! 😀 God bless!

The wind.

It’s such a beautiful noise, at night when you can’t fall asleep and you hear it howling through the trees.

Unless you’re the homeless man on the corner.

You know the one. You pass by him every day on the way to work or school. His thin clothes offer no protection from the cold. His head rests on his knees as he sleeps, his few belongings clutched to his chest.

He’s not a bad man, he’s just fallen on bad times. He had a wife, and two cute little girls. Had. He tried so hard to earn money, doing odd jobs here and there. His only joy had been coming home to his wife. And his two daughters, so little, such cute curls. Then the sickness had come.

He didn’t know why he didn’t die. Somehow he overcame the sickness. But those two little girls and his wife. They weren’t so lucky.

He lost his job. He lost his wife. He lost his daughters. He lost his house. He lost hope.

He was in an unfamiliar town, lost, with no way to go anywhere. So he stands by the road holding a cardboard sign. He doesn’t hope. No one stops for him. They find themselves purposefully avoiding his eyes, looking anywhere but where he is. You do the same. The two of you are in different worlds. After all, that homeless shelter a couple blocks away should be the one taking care of him. He could just go there if he wanted.

But he doesn’t know. You do.

The wind blows through the trees, and the homeless man’s toes and fingers grow numb in the dark of night. With no hope left.

Treasure

Treasure

A poker chip. A pair of dice. A screwdriver. A rock. All hidden in an old, rotten box shoved in an old, rotten tree.

The collection wasn’t much. Just a boy’s favorite treasures, dirty and smudged. The woman traced the A. H. carved on the lid of the box. A tear slipped down her cheek as she fondled each f her son’s precious memoirs.

“Goodbye, Alex,” she whispered softly, stroking the smooth rock. “I’ll take care of your treasures, and I’ll see you again in heaven someday.”

The little girl next to her looked down into the box.” I hope he’s got better treasures in heaven than he left us down here.”

———-

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.”

Matthew 6:19-20