Stories tagged flash-fiction

Perfect teeth and flawless hair

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In the script, she will call them “Assorted eclectic moviegoers.”

2

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He sits in the best chair and it collapses so he unfolds himself up like a mechanical shadow and sits in the second best chair.

Stepping on Snails

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I should've mentioned my breasts...but I didn't.

Goatee

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"I'm in a wrestling movie!" you shouted.

the spirit of the dead watching. Gauguin

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Listening too much to the night, with its whistles, bright lights of luminescent bursts like leaves on fire, or the raised ear of a cow in the purple mist, or the curled tail of a pig foraging in the night.

The United Church of Cigarettes

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Most keep their eyes closed. Some look up at the cloud covering the kneeling ecclesiastical trash perched high. Others look around, overly warm.

The Suicide of Superman

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It was a Monday, about 6:00 P.M. and Superman was in his Metropolis apartment. He had just changed into his pajamas and was unpacking his Chinese takeout when he was consumed by an immense explosion.

The House Next Door

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I longed for the serenity of my past.

End of the Arabesque. Degas

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In the background a group of ballet dancers hovers above their own legs and feet, one in a pose, some in light, some in shade in a forest backdrop. Two or three lit with blue light as though ignited in the shadows. Another lounging on the floor, a few sit

End of an Arabesque. Degas

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Holding a bouquet of flowers wrapped in a tissue in one hand, a round shape that balances the round yellow burst of light that is her dress. While the flesh of her chest bulges forward and she balances as though in a holding pattern in flight.

The Heron

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Bob’s thoughts drift back to bird, the solitary creature in the field, dignified, unhurried, waiting. Bob wonders where he goes; surely he will move on when spring gives way to summer.

woman having her hair combed. Degas

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The nude woman sits straight back, with her hand indented in the flesh at her hip, bracing herself as the comb is pulled through her long hair, with her breasts thrust forward into the light.

In an Irish pub with a lot of oiled wood

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“I love women. They’re like goddesses.”

Spin-the-bottle

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"You two have to kiss now!"

song of the dog: Degas

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With her head thrown back and mouth open she howls into the dark green night, letting her gloved hands droop like the front paws of a dog. A large orange corsage attached to the bosom of her gown. Around her thick neck, a ribbon of black velvet. Her p