Stories tagged flash-fiction

Drums, Like Metaphors

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It was the whole universe vibrating, some great secret of matter, proof of string theory if only string theory had been a constant dull thud of twelve year old boys; the solution to a riddle—take this city and fill it for a dollar.

Shadow Play

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I was quite alone in this small room with the tarp and the dying fire.

Attercop

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...when time would crawl like an attercop in the old barn.

War Bride

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Amid rubble, lovely, desperate Gisela married a paratrooper and sailed to America.

To Skip A Stone

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My brother and I always set to wander the fields and wet our heads in the irrigation ditch to cool off. Sometimes we would skip stones where the shade hovered thick and the water drew wide on Willow Creek.

Brick Walls

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Madeline was late.

Layers on a Cold Night

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Later that night, he lay his shivering children in his own bed, the bed that betrayed and abandoned him just a few years ago. It will protect them now.

Sashimi

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Takeo Suzuki was teaching KC, big-time film actor and director, the proper way to slice yellowtail. The chef made four quick cuts. KC mimicked him, but his cuts were barbaric and loud.

Toothbrush

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...and he would stumble from bed in a panic and fling the toothbrush at the mirror cursing all the while "fuck fuck why can't I forget her".

Kitchen Knife (n.)

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Kitchen Knife (n.)1. A standard kitchen tool consisting of a sharp blade attached to a handle intended for cutting, peeling, chopping, slicing, and dicing.2. Used primarily for food preparation (see also BUTCHERING; BACKSTABBING; JACK THE RIPPER; DEATH BY A THOUSAND…

Group

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“Why do you cut yourself?” Remy asked her, it wasn’t an opening line he would try out there but it was a perfect in here, a place where the windows didn’t open and everyone but them had keys for their comings and goings.

Backhand

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"You are stuck in the past like the jiggling leather of that wrestler's skin."

Cactus

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She once asked me to keep her young. “There’s not much I can do about aging,” I said. So she asked me to keep her youthful. “That, I can try.”

Ransom Note

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A patchwork of fonts, the best of the world’s Sunday editions, selections from the Crayola 64 to fill in blanks. The note threatens, a finger at a time, a toe per day, then it’s organs.

Reading the Writing on the Wedding Cake

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In a line behind her were a series of naked and muscular men, dressed only in white paper bakery hats.