Flash Fiction I was supposed to be writing about the bright decorative lights hanging so festively on the roof of the neighboring apartment complex as if it was Christmas, and yet it is Christmas, but the lights aren’t meant for Santa Claus. Regardless, the pantone yellow fairy lights go well with the night and with […]
Flash Fiction / Letter TW: Suicide Dear August, Regardless of what you believe about greetings in the start of a letter, I genuinely hope that this letter finds you in good health. You’re right. I am not exactly doing well. I am writing this letter to thank you for everything you’ve done till now. Having
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Fiction / Letter Dear Jan, The convention of writing a letter is to start with a greeting. An empty statement of hope towards the recipients’ good health. With your permission, I will forego that convent since your previous letters have made it beyond obvious that you are already in a deplorable state. I remember the
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Flash Fiction / Dialogue Only “Where am I?” “Oh, does it matter?” “What? Where am I?” “Everywhere and simultaneously nowhere.” “What the hell? Where am I?” “Where the river meets the sea; where dreams are disintegrated to oblivion.” “How did I get here? Where am I?” “In Xanadu, with Xubla Khan. Nine fathoms deep, with
Flash Fiction It was difficult to catch her singing, and often I didn’t try. I mustn’t. For I mustn’t be caught listening. As a rule, I left her alone. Everyone did. But sometimes I let my eyes follow her discreetly along as she shifted through the rooms, an apparition, silent, ghostly, unhappy. Mostly the third.
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Flash Fiction “Dad, look, mountains!” Little Crisie pointed excitedly at the blue, bulbous mountains due north where the river flowed into the fog, her voluminous ponytail bobbing up and down, her arms shaking wildly and forearms struggling to reach over the last rung of the railing. He smiled, marveling at his little daughter’s excellent eyesight,
Flash Fiction / Dialogue only “Leonard, did you take your medicine?” “Yes.” “There, you’re doing it again. Your meds are still on the counter.” “I took them.” “Don’t take that tone with me, I know when you take them and when you don’t.” “Then you should know that I took my meds.” “You’re exasperating. C’mon,
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Flash Fiction The weather is cold and listless. The seething sea hostile and frigid, the air cruel, piercing, and pregnant with an apocalyptic volume of water vapour, a tsunami threatening to burst forth out of the strained intermolecular forces of the paper-thin, unforgiving atmosphere. It is cold. The very spaces between the air molecules, the
Flash Fiction It’s summertime, but seasons are arbitrary anyways. The floor of the yard is cool and welcoming, the trees indifferent and rustling, sunlight dappling the leaves in a somber, mellow touch. You never could name those trees. They might as well be oak, or acacia, damned if you knew the difference. The shadows lengthen
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Flash Fiction Hi. Hello. Okay, this is weird. You don’t know me, but you just have to trust me here, okay? Don’t worry I’m not going to ask something illogical of you. There is no Mission-Impossible type plot and nothing really serious, if I’m being perfectly honest. It’s just that I had to say hello,
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