Stories tagged flash-fiction

The whispering lament of conquistadors' bones

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Now, as I march toward the sea, with all your treasures in a sack, you watch from behind a wall of emerald, as though I were not a thief, as though I would return, as though you love me still.

Happy Birthday... Mr. President

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Her dress swirled around her as she stepped into the ballroom, looking every bit as sultry as her recent Playboy cover...

Abre La Puerta

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My daughter, now four, can count to 15 in Spanish. How old are you? Cuatro. How old will you be on your birthday? Cinco. She likes Dora and thinks Diego is weird.

Exiled from English

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Then they made him stay after school and met with his parents. Scott was sent outside to play in an empty playground. He didn’t feel like playing. He sat on the steps outside the classroom and listened to his Dad shouting through the plastic walls.

Hardly Used Tractors

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Now Carver Smithton has a paunched belly as stout as the beer that fills it. His upper lip is thick, fat and flat like a caterpillar run over by a semi on Highway 17.

Hey Jude

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I laugh too loud cause the world looks good that way and for a minute we both make funny sounds just to exercise our vocal cords and see how close we can come to the line without crossing.

Things you remember in the middle of the night

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You remember angelus bells and the soon fading scent of her sweet, sweatered gift

The Good Ship - Forgotten

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As I gripped the wheel and stared at the expanse above my head, my compass spun wildly. Something wasn't quite right

Audubon

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Sam liked collecting women's names in his lips like an aviary.

Time. Stop.

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So young. So innocent. How do you tell a little one that her mother is dying? The father seemed to be bathing in a sea of hopelessness lately.

The Hamster Eulogies

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But not once did we mention heaven. The next day we bought another one.

Friendship Pins

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There were a lot of advantages to having shoelaces.

The Storefront Poet (cont'd)

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I suppose that’s how it begins, religion … the seduction of hymns and pretty young women in white dresses and red berets.

Eight Feet Tall

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On your profile you wrote, it takes the first few minutes to know if it’s real. I stared down this demon linebacker. I believed. There was light in its eyes, twinkle on obsidian. Right then I knew we were a success story.

The Thing on Marlow Street

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After all, if she could get through World War II with no more than a couple of letters and numbers on her arm, she could, sure as hell, get through this.