Blog Standard

Carefully Crafted Photographer Wordpress Theme
the art of a broken heart, flashfiction

Music of Starlight

The heart lies beside him, whole, pink and beating. Thump. Thump, the drumbeat of someone who knew how to make music or war. She picks it up and cracks it open on the nearest rock.   Rumors and legends spread throughout the kingdom of unimaginable treasures found inside human hearts. They are just rumors, but still, it can’t hurt to take a look. Seeds and string and feathers fall from the broken heart––seeds of hate and lust that never did catch hold and grow, strings, thin but strong,...

What I remember about that day...

What I Remember

the sun pouring like honey through our bedroom window   drinking lukewarm coffee because I don't want to get up and not hear you breathe just to nuke it hot   the red of the apple I had for lunch, the crunch of it when I bit in   the white of fresh stucco on the place across the street, the black windows staring back   you, cooking onions and garlic and tomatoes and speaking poetry to me   drinking wine, the reddest and fullest we’d ever had, or maybe that’s just what I remember   the...

small winter town

Ms. Eve

I don’t know about you, but for me, January seems like it should be part of the year before. It feels like a buffer month, one where you pull the blankets up, make a cocoon and stare into the fire, daydreaming about all the things you should be doing. It’s a time to catch your breath and ease into February.   I’m not the only one who feels this way. Eve, last name Newyear, is having a heck of a time getting on with things.   Somewhere, in the...

Postcard-sized flash fiction about life, death and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

The Untold Version

What you don’t know is how Goldilocks got to the bear’s house in the first place. She was running, from her father’s silence and to her mother’s ghost––a shimmering figure who wore the face of her mother but had longer hair, slimmer hips, and black button eyes, but it was her alright.   It was the ghost that beckoned Goldilocks from her room, down the stairs, and into the forest. She tried to keep up but couldn’t. Her small feet were bare and hurting as she stepped...

Chariot of the Dead. Taking you to the other side.

Chariot of the Dead

They call it the Chariot. And if you’re wondering, it didn’t always look this––patinaed. Back in the day, I kept it spit-polished to a heavenly shine. The sleek body was black as a bottomless hole. And the chrome, it shone with the brilliance of a dying star. ...

Postcard-sized flash fiction about life, old age and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

In the Day…

In the day, he wore a robin’s egg, blue suit. He spiffed up and shined up and rolled smooth as a movie star down a red carpet. Street lights blinked a slow sexy rhythm for him, a green for three blocks tops, then red. A drawn out red so they could get a good long look at his chrome hubcaps.   For a time, he had whitewalls, but like white after Labor Day, they had their time then were ditched as bad fashion. He remembers those sweaty...

Postcard-sized flash fiction about love, a trusty car and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Forever, Until it Isn’t

The day smelled of cut flowers and suntan lotion. The finned ’85 Chevy cut a fine line down the gravel road. Cans of Bud Light bounced off the ground and took flight once we got to the main road....

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the strangeness of life, dragon slayers and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Freda the Dragon Slayer

Freda the Dragon Slayer pushed a screwdriver into the ignition. Her arthritic hand shook and ached as she twisted the handle. The old farm truck sputtered but started. Every day the same thing, Franko the truck would moan and complain but he always came alive.   The morning was crisp and dark. The distant mountains were the purple of a ripe plumb. Freda the Dragon Slayer sat in the blowing heat, rubbed her knobby fingers and talked to Franko, “Aren’t we a lovely bunch of coconuts? Old...

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the strangeness of life and the beginning of all things and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Ollie and Racheal

Ollie had found the truck on the side of the freeway. The ‘For Sale’ sign handwritten in the window. Five hundred or best offer, it said in bright blue marker. He called and made their best offer which wasn’t much.   Racheal had groaned and rubbed her large belly when she saw it. “How are we gonna fit a car seat in that?” But two days later, when her pains came on too fast to make it to the hospital, she had given birth to their baby...

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the strangeness of life and the end of all things and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

D for Dixie

Dixie drank moonshine from a mason jar and watched the sky crack open from her front porch. The Radioman had warned them all the end of the world was coming. He warned and warned while people rushed and ran to who knows where.   And while they ran in circles, Dixie pulled out what was left of her homemade hooch, dragged her recliner to the edge of her deck and watched stars spill out like glitter on her world. They sparkled and flared and fell like...