THE RED WHEELBARROW BY Pat Garcia

@patgarcia.bsky.social @pat_garcia @rrbc-0rg.bsky.social #women’sfiction #romancereader #writingjourney #amwriting #romancebooks #contemporaryromance #mfrwbookhooks

Hello, Everyone,

Today, I continue working on the Flash Fiction Anthology, which is scheduled for release in winter 2026. I have been privileged to participate in Flash Fiction contests over the years. I love Flash Fiction. I have learned a great deal about the Flash Fiction and short stories Genre from reading the works of Eudora Welty, Joyce Carol Oates, and the late Canadian writer Alice Munro. 

This is a snippet I wrote for The WEP, a writing organization founded by Denise Covey. I learned a lot from all the writers who participated in the contests. I hope you enjoy the snippet. 

Shalom shalom

Pat Garcia

 

EXCERPT:

Netta scrutinized the red wheelbarrow placed before the floor-to-ceiling window of the living room.

That wheelbarrow isn’t just attractive, but it’s a downright elixir for the soul.

She stood between the doorframe of the door, across the hall from the living room, admiring and examining the object of her curiosity. It stood so majestically before the window, in its bright red color, as if it were giving a queenly audience. She could have sworn the thing was smiling at her.  

Her husband, Jonathan, had turned it into a flower bed. He had chosen the living room to place it in, stating that he could admire his handy work when he returned home every evening.   

Netta shook her head. In the sunlight, the red wheelbarrow seemed to wink, but a wheelbarrow couldn’t wink, or could it?

She’d met Jonathan at her favorite Italian restaurant. She’d been sitting at a corner table with a big plate of spaghetti and a mozzarella and tomato salad. She’d just happened to look toward the entrance door of the restaurant and had gazed directly into the saddest but prettiest green eyes she’d ever seen. He’d stared back at her and then walked to her table and asked if she minded him sitting with her. Her mouth had been full of spaghetti, and the only way she could answer him without spilling the food out of her mouth had been to nod in acceptance.

Jonathan had ordered his meal after introducing himself and then began asking her questions, which made her hesitant to answer. When he’d asked her about her marital status, her eyebrows had furrowed, and her heartbeat had quickened. She’d not been so sure that it had been a good idea to let him sit at her table. Then, Jonathan assured her that he posed no danger to her. He was looking for someone to share his home with. He’d said he wanted the comfort of knowing that a trustworthy person was living with him. He needed a wife but not one to share his bed. Just a faithful wife to be there. He’d insisted on putting that clausal in their marriage agreement.  

At first, Netta didn’t believe or trust him. She thought he was some ax murderer or a cannibal who wanted to kill and eat her. Her vivid imagination had her packed away in plastic freezer bags in small portions in his freezer. With her chubby size thighs, big arms, and breasts, she was pretty sure Jonathan would have had enough meat for a year.

Netta didn’t understand why a man from out of nowhere was asking her, a stranger, to marry him. What she did know was that she said yes.

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