Stories tagged flash-fiction

Odysseus Remembered

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Years later Polyphemus still remembers the wine-soaked taste of Odysseus’s men. The barley and garlic-flavored Greeks. Their flesh a fibrous, blood-hued hummus. Their crunched bones releasing sweet marrow.

Weather Forecasting

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By the time the forked tongue of the flag extended flat like it was pressed between two of my thick volumes on weather forecasting, the man was still walking with his nose glued to the ground.

Tarot

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I am the boy with the olive skin who takes pictures of lewd sex acts performed by nobodies on stage at the Rock Creek Lodge Testicle Festival in Missoula, Montana.

Brain Food

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Patrick McAllister, the tormented young man who used to work beside me on pizzas, really did have a degree in astrophysics.

Onion Butt

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The onions are cut in half and sliced thin.

Searching for Mr. Bharath Seshardi

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This tall, very fair, very blonde, very female, very feminist friend of mine, with a smile the moon and stars must take lessons from. . . .

Gone to Seed

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The careful paths of larger versions gave me enough time to think, to sense their fears from pauses between footsteps, and prepare those minutes, hours, weeks before they decomposed into my whole.

At Last — My Dream Come True!

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Some fiftysomething woman with a small dog in her arms was waiting for him, backstage. Security hadn't succeeded in restraining her. Strange.

Ambassador of Nowhere

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Before you tripped on the third rail, you were like any other: coat a shard of midnight-blue, eyes filled with gratitude but for nothing. You were a lost coyote on a snowy hill. With sad magnificence you wandered, terrorizing passengers who secretly wished to pat your…

The sun, a perfect egg yolk

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Hod carrier, soon-to-be-father, he twisted the withered potato he kept in his trouser pocket to ward off the rheumatism. He hoped for a boy, yes, a little gossoon with fair hair and green eyes.

Angelique

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She is an old soul...

Surprise!

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We were fleeing Hurricane Katrina We stopped somewhere in Texas at a roadside diner But found a sign that said it was closed All of a sudden as we sat there in our car The shop’s owner knocked on the window And asked what he could get for us

Teresa's Monologue About Patrick, The Brilliant Boy Who Slit His Wrists at The Pizza Counter

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Patrick McAllister, that tormented young man who used to work beside me on pizzas, really did have a degree in astrophysics. I saw a photograph of his graduation certificate with my own two eyes.

In an authentic Irish pub in Las Vegas

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In an authentic Irish pub in Las Vegas where over much crowd noise the three of us are discussing Yeats, Joyce and Lady Gregory. We’re in an Irish pub after all, plus the fact we’re literature profs attending a Vegas academic conference.

Her Alphabet

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There's the way you see lines of the palm cut short by a scar there on the hand where once a kitchen knife may have slipped. He used to tell her he would see her without so much travel, odds and ends, or his adventures. A day ahead, a week later. A month goes by. …