Tag Archive: flash fiction

Today I came undone. It was an interesting feeling akin to screaming from a dream, pointless and jarring. My words were nothing more than pathetic echoes reverberating out of me, attached to nothing, devoid of meaning. Scales fell from my eyes, liquid fire, blinding me to the light. As I stood in the maelstrom, begging it to strike harder, I paid willingly in pounds of flesh. Eased by the warm rush of blood. Calmed by the whiring in my ears.

My masks lay at my feet strewn like flowers, representations of things I dare not name. They are my most and least honest appendage in one. The masks repel and call to me with the same voice. It’s familiar, and my fingers itch to pull them up, obedient as always.

An acrid taste upon my tongue sours my stomach. Perhaps this pill wasn’t meant for swallowing, but the hour is late and I’ve already decided. So while Fate looms chill and shadowy behind me, a shark, keen in bloody water, I drop my arms, stand firm, and adjust my posture. I am ready to continue because continue is what I do.


Spring evening

~Hungry eyes by ericadalmaso on DeviantArt~

Fucking spring.

I fasten the toggles on my Gloverall and start up the street. The wind pics up.

Tick…tick…tick tick tick tick tickticktick.


I hunch my shoulders, drop my head, and pull my hood up.


Damn it.

I shiver as a stray rain drop slides down my back.

Braaahhhhnnn! Ding ding ding ding. Brraahhhnn!

What time is it?

The cold wet of my pant leg starts to chafe pulling at my attention, a distraction from the ache in my side.

Slap, slap…shhaaaa…slap, slap…aaaahh…slap, slap. Ding…

I stop running and hold my side fighting for a full breath.

6:21! You gotta be kiddin’ me!

“You got a dollar miss? I need to get home.”

Yah, you and me both.

So this is an attempt at writing a first person present tense story. I became interested in this choice of perspective after I came across Whose skin am I in posted by J.S. Kuiken. This post was thought provoking and made me want to try my hand at a new and challenging story telling mechanism. Well it was very hard to tell the story without narrating, but I hope that I was able to keep you interested in my character and her plight. Be sure to check out J.S. Kuiken’s blog.



As seen on Etsy - sookimstudio

It was subtle.  Not something the casual observer would have noticed.  Just a few well hidden hairline fractures in the otherwise perfect façade.  The constant fussing with her hair drawing unwanted attention to the pealing faux finish on her designer sunglasses.  The too fancy up-do nearly hiding the roots showing in her outgrown custom balayage highlights.  All the pieces were there, slightly shabby, but there, and to the unobservant she was a woman who had it all totally together.  Truthfully she was on the brink.  The clinched jaw, roving eyes, and fidgety hands gave her away.  She was holding on by her not so professionally manicured finger tips.

“You have to act like you don’t care,” I said over my shoulder when I caught her checking herself in the dark reflective glass of the subway window.

“Excuse me?”

“Act like you don’t care,” I repeated.  “If you have it, you know it, and you don’t have to check on it.”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she decided to ignore me, but she didn’t look in the glass again.  Instead she leaned back cocking her hip in an “I’m so bored pose”.  I couldn’t help but smile.


An acidic tang hung on the warm dry air, coating her tongue and souring her words, keeping unnecessary conversations to a minimum.  The silence suited Ayda though allowing her to stretch her senses as close to the horizon as possible knowing that the constant wind would distort sound and the fading light alter her depth perception.  Still she waited, poised, at the edge of a decision.  If going had been hard then returning would be nearly impossible.

“To the East,” she said moving forward in long steady strides.  They called her Ayda for a reason… nearly would be good enough.


All rights to the owner who I thank for putting such a striking image on the internet.

It happened in an instant, the shift from givers to users, and world merrily followed after.  Down hill.  For all the good it did us.


There had been a vote.  Not that it really mattered.  Fall was something you could feel in your core it wasn’t something you waited for on a calendar or determined by group decision.  It was time.  Group mentality be damned!


As seen on Devianart by Blazing Potato

Inevitable like ants


All fun and giggles he nodded to happy families on their way to the beach, but he never really noticed them.  His rapt attention was focused elsewhere.  Lost, upset, or just curious it didn’t matter much to him so long as they were alone.  He could wait… till the right one appeared.  It was inevitable like ants at this “teddy bear’s picnic”

This bit of flash fiction was written based on a prompt from Julia over at 100WCGU.  Hope its not too creepy, but I’ve been watching a lot of crime drama so…  Hope you enjoy!

Summer heat


All rights to owner

The rhythmic clicking of the ceiling fan was almost soothing.  A promise of the cool breeze that should have been.  However, even as the rickety metal blades struggled against the heavy humid air it refused to be stirred.


It’s almost warm I think as the liquid creeps past my lower lip.  Like a blanket.  Like when I use to hide in the middle of my bed under the covers with only my wide open eyes visible. Groggily I would stare out at the shadowy world till sleep grabbed me by the ankle headless of my misplaced worry. Now, like then, I struggle to keep my eyes open, and deep I inside I know the result will be the same.  Still… I try.


As seen on roundtree7.com

“Oh my God!  Sanchez… Shit!”

I turned torch and gun aimed toward Marins.  “Waddya got…” I stopped mid sentence thinking that shit wasn’t quite expletive enough to cover it.

“You kiddin’ me?  What the fu…they said BnE right?”

I could tell from his wide eyes and panicked voice that Marins needed reassurance, but I was running low.

“Rent-a-cop called in a break in right?  Right?”

“Yah 594.” It wouldn’t take a crack detective to figure the how out, based on her scorched hands and the ozone smell of burnt out wiring, but the why would be a different story. I mean what makes a person get out in the rain to trespass in an abandoned textile mill with about 50 pounds of yarn anyway?  “Better call it in Marins.”

“Oh okay just give me a sec I need to look up the code for a yarn bombing gone south.”

A bubble of hysterical laughter built in my chest till I couldn’t contain myself any longer.  “Just cut the shit and hurry up Marins if this ends up on the nightly news the kiddies are going to have Technicolor nightmares.”


All rights to owner


Sooo I have been crafting Christmas gifts for call my relatives this year which means I have been remiss in the WordPress posting department. I hope you can all forgive me, for the lack of posts and possible lack of holiday spirit in my Christmas eve post 🙂

You got to love the kind of bored/crazy that makes a person knit or crochet a giant squid suit for a tree or a bench monster.


Yarn bombers your confuse and intrigue me!

Happy Holidays y’all!

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