flash fiction
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Amelia Earhart Sees (Elegiac visions of the next world in the depths of the Pacific)
The silver skin of her Electra reflects the setting sun. The twin engines hum, steadfast lift is provided by the wings. The strange invisible waves of the radio beacon fly out across the ocean, far faster than the plane itself. Here among the tiny green islands and endless blue waters are beasts that wait in dark places.…
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MOOD INDIGO: STORIES NOW AVAILABLE
A new collection of short fiction by your’s truly is now available through the evil capitalists at Amazon here: Moon Indigo This collection spans a decade of output and includes both short stories and pieces of micro fiction, or flash fiction depending on your opinion. Many of these stories have appeared online in different magazines/journals,…
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Warehouse
“Goddamnit’s hot!” reverberated through the alleyway. It was hot, over 90 degrees – if the thermometer he toted around in his old Woodman’s Market shopping cart could be trusted. He trusted so little these days. The red brick buildings stood around him, silent and sturdy. Unlike most of the city, they would last for decades…
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Pink Granite
I always found her there, sitting in the dark quietly sweating in front of her ancient, browning air conditioner. The slowly brightening tip of her lit cigarette belied her breathing. Somehow she kept doing it no matter the medical condition: Arthritis, emphysema, heart failure, laryngeal cancer – those filtered sticks would be burning in her…
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Aldrin Waits
The sheets were purity white, blameless. Two hands lying atop the crisp linen folds; gnarled, purple veins, arthritic, with brown spots as numberless as a Dalmatians riding a Fourth of July firetruck. Under eyelids jittering, sunken eyes move in REM motions; emotions, vibrations, oxygen levels, fuel warning indicators, alarms. It’s a tight fit with…
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Player Piano
There was a tinkling in the parlor, the cat had run across the keys of the old player piano. It had stood there against the wall for so many decades that you could still see the yellow daisies on the wallpaper hidden behind it. It smelled like ancient timber and rust and great-grandma’s Pall Malls.…
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Poe in a Flash
This story was composed live on Twitter as a sort of “flash fiction” test. I think it turned out well. He shrugged off his black overcoat and turned to peer at himself in the looking glass. “This is what I have become,” he mutters, “dead.” He pushes back his thinning black hair, the high…
The Numinous Cosmos 