Not only are these really short stories, but they are written within one hour. These are basically just fast fun.
Up here, the rain might not end. The mountains yank it down. Leaves, thistles, and remnants of yarrow, who only months ago relinquished their hold on the land, now find themselves pummeled into a wet carpet. You walk cautiously. You think of snow. A… Continue Reading “Mountain Rain”
He wears rocker shirts. Wears one for a couple weeks straight. Mötley Crüe, Maiden, Def Leppard. After a while, they turn into a fuzzy beige, frayed, stretched, slept in. Matches his forehead above them, receding hairline, exposing a weathered field of grease and veins.… Continue Reading “Weathered Shirts”
There’s a burning inside her and you can see it when she’s holding in her voice. You’re lucky she holds it in, for when it hits air, it cuts you. These cuts cause you to fall inside her furnace, scald you, sting your heart… Continue Reading “When Josephine The Singer Leaves”
I will pick a blue flower. # The old one sits in a vase. Navy blue, blackened, dry crumbs, as if pressed inside an old book. A little life clings to its edges, a lingering glow. Mother nibbles at these fresh parts, the fresh… Continue Reading “Still Life (A Myth)”
The wind is amplified by the valley. A sign, to go no further. This wind searches ravines, ravages tops of evergreens, escapes up through mountains, lets loose upon a cold sky. A harsh exhale, a winter bite, snickering past sunrise, diving into sunset, searching… Continue Reading “The Wind Chases Feral”
There used to be a couple. Bud, Miller. Pissy, yellow stuff with names of factory workers and truck drivers. Now, flavors flourish like house cats, calico, Siamese, tabby. He loves tabs. Drunk on credit. Purrrrrrr. That’s something to be proud of. More important than… Continue Reading “Been Leaving Ever Since”
He was an old orchard, still in the shape of rows. But time had scattered his buzzing and his feet made noise upon layers of fallen twigs. Still, he searched, moved with purposeful steps, noise and all. She knew he would find her. He… Continue Reading “The Harvester and the Crone”