Changes

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.

In Ashes

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.”

Ten Years

This article is an epilogue to a series discussing the ten-year anniversary of 9/11.

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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.

Ask Ceil – Last Monday

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.

Human Accounting

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.

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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.

Ask Ceil - Crumbs of Fate

Reblogged from Magnificent Nose:

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Dear Ceil

Is our fate etched in stone, or do we really have control over it?

Nonplussed in New Hampshire

Ah, the ages-old question. Do we really have free will? Or are we just Destiny's playthings? And by Destiny, I am not referring to the blind precognitive mutant adversary of the X-Men. (Actually, I meant to not refer to her, but now I am anyway.

Read more… 747 more words

This post was my most popular one on Magnificent Nose. I've no idea why. Reblogged here for your reading pleasure!

Ask Ceil - The Prize for Brain Damage

Reblogged from Magnificent Nose:

Dear Ceil,

If a car door is moving at 10 mph towards a person's head, at a distance of 2 feet, how long will the person be incapacitated?

--Concussed in Carolina

Dear Concussed,

At exactly that speed, at exactly that distance... no one knows. However, if you're wearing a helmet... still, no one knows. It could be a week, it could be four weeks.

Read more… 860 more words