A place for short fiction and poetry while your coffee brews or your tea steeps
It was strange, that face, so familiar, yet not quite what he’d grown accustomed to seeing night after night. The nose was long, almost touching the sharp chin. The mouth was a straight slash, except where it turned down at its edges. And lately, it had been turning down at its edges more often than not. Continue reading “Face at the Window (FlashNano Day 12)”
She’d gotten in near midnight, after her evening shift at the group home. Her own home was a shambles: beer cans and wine bottles, scummy bong water, butts strewn all over the floor, some of them human. They weren’t supposed to be here.
Rodney emerged from the bedroom, a very drunk, half-clothed Britanny hanging off his shoulder, sharing his satiated grin.
“Sheralynn,” Rodney drew up his familiar shield of nonchalance. “I thought you were working a double shift.”
“They sent me home. Likely COVID exposure,” she wiped her brow, unsure if it was fever, or rage. “Everybody out. Now.”
“You sure this is gonna work, Jonas?”
“Have I ever steered you wrong before, Boy?”
Peter muttered, “Only for a higher purpose. Or so you say.”
Jonas grinned, his double row of needle-sharp teeth glinting in the cavern’s incandescence. His hearing was quite acute, even for a centuries-old creature as himself. Continue reading “Thunder and Lightning”
Countdown from the Carrot Ranch Contest: Re-visioning your flash in 4 steps (for more, see the link below)
Step One: 99 word flash, to include “beans”
Bucky’s Beans
It was definitely not what I was expecting. I thought we’d celebrate Bucky’s return from her Antarctic dogsled adventure with a lavish meal, and go shake our butts at a dance club. Maybe not that last one. Bucky’d only been home for two weeks.
What I saw was Bucky on the couch in sweats and wool socks, legs folded underneath her, spoon dipping into a can of baked beans.
I hid my dismay, but not well enough.
“When you’ve been living off a dogsled, a can of beans is a feast.”
I sighed, grabbing a spoon from the kitchen. Continue reading “Rodeo Event #4: Bucky’s Baked Beans, A Love Story with Two Spoons”
“What have you got there?”
“Special order for Daniel, in Minnesota!”
“Minnesota is too general, see? The original says Minnetrista.”
“Where?”
Sheralynn stared out the train window at open prairie rolling by. The XYY Ranch was nestled in the shelter of the New Carpathian Mountains…or so the online website said. She snapped her laptop shut; her battery was low and the circle of dark mountains would gobble up her wifi bars. She leaned against a stack of carry-on luggage not hers (her kit bag was stuffed under her seat), and closed her eyes.
Continue reading “Shoulda Checked the Online Customer Reviews”
She held the rock to her lips. Copper and silver shone where her fingers caressed.
For a moment, Gichi-gami rolls beneath this secure Virginia town. Continue reading “The Talisman”
Nora crouched at the edge of Fischer’s Gorge and pulled a braid of human hair from inside her jacket. Each strand in this braid had been woven together from the remainders of uncounted childhood games, battles fought and forgiven, and secrets shared among four friends, over nearly two decades. She pressed it to her face and breathed in their memories, then began the unraveling. Continue reading “Nora’s Mistake”
It's All True, None of It's True. Don't Ask.
Words of a clarklike female
A writing blog by H.R.R. Gorman
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