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Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know, old doors and life and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Chained

The chains rattled and clanged as they wrapped his arms and locked him down. They had left him there wearing the same peeled paint and weathered wood suit he always wore.   He hung his lattice in shame.   He never did know his crime, even to this day. ...

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know, ghosts and fools and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

The Fool

I told the fool not to look at me straight on. Keep to the mirrors, to puddles, chrome bumpers or windows––I don’t want to see the red-veined whites of your eyes, I told the fool.   But like all fools, he wasn’t the listening kind.   It was the kind of day when anything could happen, sun or rain, music making or lovemaking, ripped jeans or suit pants. It’s the kind of day a dead man like myself feels most at home. It is also the day the fool...

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know, haircuts and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Let Your Hair Down

Here’s the thing about Rapunzel, she was a DJ and lived on the second floor and truth be told, it wasn’t but a twenty-foot drop from her window to the street.   She had cut her hair when she was eighteen and has rocked an indigo blue mohawk ever since. Colorful inked images of dragons and Pegasus and butterflies cover her back and arms. We used to joke that if she was ever locked away in her apartment, she could just fly away with all those wings.   And...

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,...

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

Ten cents and a femur bone

The price of a call to the afterlife is ten cents and a femur bone. Just so you know, I don’t make them rules. But I can tell you how to bend them a little. Nowhere in the admissions guidelines does it say whose femur it has to be. I’ve seen all kinds, animal, and human, and some are nastier than others. Let’s just leave it at that.   It’s tricksy business facilitating those calls. I’ve had people meltdown in more ways than I thought possible....

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...

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about sky, earth, life and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

just like you

"The sad thing is, we are just like you,” it said. “Only better. We don’t toil and slave for others. We just are. We dress better than you but wear no designer labels. We have no traffic jams or guns or old hurts. We just are.   The rains and sun feed us and we bless you with color––the color of joy. We bend and sing with the winds and when our days are over we offer ourselves to the earth and she gladly takes us...

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about street art, alleyways, life and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Inspiration will strike you down

“Look, honey, making art you don’t like will make you sick.” She took a drag on her smoke. “You got any chalk on you?” “I don’t,” I say. “You should. Never know when inspiration will strike you down.” With one last puff on her cigarette, she collected her plastic bucket of rainbow-colored chalk and left. I stayed awhile, taking in her inspiration. ...

Postcard-sized flash fiction about the things we think we know about sky, water, life and everything in between. And it all starts with an image...

Sky, land and water

Once, there was sky and land and water and nothing more. It was good. But sometimes good can be better. A seed was thrown to the wind. It was carried through sky, across land and fell to the water. It was pushed ashore by waves, and there it made its home.   The seed became Tree, who in its reverence, waved to the sky with thin fingers, shaded the land beneath its branches and sheltered small sea creatures in its roots.   And what was good, became great...

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...