Read. Write. Live deliberately.
Liz stared hard into the darkness. There was that familiar sound, just enough like someone walking in the attic space above that it made her start. Every time. Probably a squirrel or a bat or the pair of mourning doves who lived in the neighbor’s tree. Still, the sound frightened her. Not because Liz believed…
Jules sensed the tap before she heard it. Tap – a short and uncertain sound behind. I won’t look, she thought. It’s nothing. Tap tap – unmistakable this time. I won’t hurry. There was no reason to fear anything here on ground made so familiar by her feet night after night, year after year on…
Clarice wiped her hands on her apron for the fortieth time that day. After many hours of doing, she was ready to sit, to read perhaps, or to reflect. “This is not my life,” she might once have said. She never imagined this version of Clarice. Never allowed herself to consider it. But life changes,…
Carla didn’t know what drove her decision. She only knew she needed to go. She flew through the house, stuffing items into her duffel. From the bedroom, her favorite sweatshirt. His, really. Too bad. From the dining room she grabbed her current reading pile and a half-drunk Diet Coke. She stamped down the three steps…
Kiddo was unusually wound up when Mom picked her up at school. “How was school today?” “Great!” she said. Kiddo, backpack, lunchbox, and Valentine’s box all tumbled into the car. “The Valentine party was SOOOO much fun!” “Hmm…” said Mom. “What did you eat today?” “I only had my lunch that you packed. It was…
George was a very blue dog. Being stuffed as he was, George didn’t spend much time romping among the daisies. He most often played indoors with his favorite sidekick, Kiki the green turtle. Being a turtle as she was, Kiki didn’t do much romping, well, anywhere. George the blue dog loved Kiki and he loved…
Jean-Luc sat easily on the park bench, one arm draped over the back. He pulled a slow, hard drag from his cigarette, inhaling the afternoon heat. “Your first time in Paris, monsieur?” The man’s aroma suggested it had been some time since he bathed. “I’ve been…away for many years.” “I know places to see, monsieur.…
Harold felt someone touch him. Or did he? It was hard to tell from behind the curtain of darkness shrouding his eyes. Every inch of his leaden body resisted all appeals for movement. His mind was too clouded for inquiry. He could probably rally himself, but the only thing he wanted was to let go,…
She always felt like the one who needed to be carried. He was the calm to her bluster, the reason to her emotion. When she fretted and worried, he said, “just keep going” and “I believe.” She found his lack of excitability infuriating. Through all the changes, the struggles, the fears, he worked and simply…
On Tuesday, I usually run a flash fiction written in response to the weekly prompt from Charli Mills over at Carrot Ranch Communications. Weekly flash fiction prompts are taking a break in the barn for the time being as we kick off this month’s Flash Fiction Rodeo over at the ranch. I still have a…
