The lizard child is tapping on his sometimes prison, usually room; toenails tapping out a mantra against walls he doesn’t understand. For a creature that supposedly should have spent its life running across the arid plains, he sure trips a lot. The wedge of a head whips up to look at me, perched on my … Continue reading
Tag Archives: story
The Confession: A Monologue
Physical Description A man sits at a table drinking a 20 ounce black coffee. He’s bald, has glasses, and is wearing a brown newsboy cap. He is looking outside the window while he types on his laptop and has earbuds in. Occasionally he mutters to himself and types something. He is probably 5 ft 10 … Continue reading
Flash Fiction Friday: Converse
The sky is dark, the stars and moon shining brightly among the dark chasm of space. There’s an autumn chill in the air around me: perfect hoodie weather. Although, I’d wear a hoodie no matter the weather. My hood is up and my hands are stuffed in the middle pocket. I look straight ahead. It’s … Continue reading
Flash Fiction Friday: Intervention
He laid out a plate of cranberry glazed chicken with a side of mashed potatoes. The plate itself was a fine china and the silverware was perfectly cleaned and shining. The rough, woven tablecloth and lumpy candles on the table gave the rest of the room a more informal feeling. He hadn’t even told me … Continue reading
Flash Fiction Friday: Untitled
The library was packed, and I mentally cursed myself for coming in broad daylight. I avoided eye contact with the librarian because I still hadn’t returned that chemistry book I borrowed two months ago. I was pretty sure I had lost it. I still hated the library, but I couldn’t deny the beauty of the … Continue reading
Dust—Wm. Anthony Connolly
He cleaned up in anticipation of her arrival. He made things look right. He dusted the tables, the lamps, the curtains and the shelving. He pulled out books and CDs and cleaned behind them. He sprayed cleanser on the TV screen and wiped it clean. Everywhere he looked, dust. In places, the dust, beggar’s velvet … Continue reading
The Blue Haze—W. Royce Adams
No one can convince me they aren’t out there. Just two or three blocks away, oh yes. I know it; feel it. My mind keeps seeing them sitting there in a black Ford panel truck; I see them hunched over their machines, wearing this special electronic gear they have, taping everything. Yeah. I’ve read about … Continue reading
On the Nose—Kevin Tosca
If you considered it from different angles, the jarring effect of Marina’s nose was lessened, but never erased. When she wasn’t there, I wondered if hers was a face I could wake up to each morning. No. My honest, spontaneous answer: No. But I didn’t like this honest, spontaneous answer of mine, nor the me … Continue reading
Smile—Marissa Carson
Rebecca Williams had the brightest smile you’d ever seen. Maybe it wasn’t pure white, but the way she smiled was so sincere that it radiated warmth and light. She had a gap, not between her two front teeth, but between the pointy one and the flat one directly four to the left of that. You’d … Continue reading
Mercury—Tom Larsen
Somebody said he was a stone hauler with a broken heart. Whoever he was he drove up to Eagle Mountain the night before Thanksgiving with a quart of Wild Turkey and a .357 Magnum. The sheriff found him around sunup. By noon the news was all over town. We were shooting pool when the wrecker … Continue reading