For a little while, I’m going to be re-publishing some older work from other places here. If you’re following this blog, it’s going to seem like I’m very prolific. I’m not. Just doing some housekeeping.
This work of flash fiction was published on The Magnificent Nose on September 15, 2012, as part of their second Flash Fiction Week. The theme of the week was “Lack of Communication”. I was privileged to have my customary Friday spot.
Leslie Gray, a stout burn unit nurse, peered through her reading glasses at a business card, then up at the thin, young man, then back to the business card which revealed the various modes of communication for one James E. Silas, Esquire.
“Well, you can go in, but don’t expect much.” Fluorescent lights rheflected off the bright counter surface and onto Ms. Gray’s glasses, making it difficult to see her eyes. “Old Mrs. Long hasn’t said a word since the fire three weeks ago. Took her husband, you know.”
This article is an epilogue to a series discussing the ten-year anniversary of 9/11.
My story of 9/11 is much like many other peoples’: another story of people at work, punched in the stomach by horrible intent, scared but finding solidarity among their friends and colleagues.
But this story is one of separation. Continue reading
I am sitting at the car dealership, amongst balloons that say “Get your way andthe highway,” having my enormous minivan serviced. I’ve been putting it off for a while, partly because my van is an indispensable tool in my average day, and partly because I wanted to put as much distance between Christmas and a huge auto repair bill as I reasonably could.
Now, dear readers, I know I blew you off last Friday, but I swear, there was a good reason. You know I wouldn’t just do that to you. I mean, I know we’ve been together for several months now. We’re past the getting-to-know-you stage, and maybe you feel like I owe you some kind of committment. I feel it too. I know this is something special, this thing we’ve got here.
But you know. I feel like we never really talk. Not really.
Let me explain my part of the story, and I promise, it’ll never happen again. At least, not in the next couple of weeks. Continue reading
This story was originally published on Magnificent Nose for their first Flash Fiction Week. Each story had to be 300 words and include 3 characters.
Russ grabbed his brother, spun him around and hugged him. Under his breath he said, “Thank God you’re okay.”
A reluctant breeze swayed the yellowed, ruffled kitchen curtains and cigarette smoke swirled around the dingy room.
Russ then pushed Jackson back and slugged him. Jackson flew back, knocking over the kitchen table. Mother’s crystal salt and pepper shakers skidded under the pie chest. Continue reading