flash fiction

The face in the shoebox

That polaroid. Buddy was going through his shoebox of old photos, dealing them out like cards on the coffee table. I was stunned, but faked disinterest. The party drifted to the kitchen. He wouldn’t miss it. Xenia, how came this? So young. So innocent of your appalling destiny.

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The coldest knight of the year

Sack of a face. All dragged down by gravity and surrendered muscles. It’s supposed to take more of them to frown than to smile, but nature disagrees. And what’s he doin’ now, that old Aqualung? Shufflin’ along the sidewalk. Dangerous as a stage player. There, he’s found the metal grate, the rising heat curtain. Marilyn […]

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Nemesis

If you found me this evening time (for such it is),  you would know things that have been out of your sight.  The way that I put on my skin and my bones.    How my legs bend after dark.  What I do with the possibility of fingers.  How my movements compare to yours, since […]

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