We had been living out there for three months before I even noticed it. I remember looking up from Katyâs face as I worked away and the curtains were open. It was the middle of the day, a blue sky above and straight ahead I saw the cross atop a …Read More »
When the door clicks shut, his mouth starts running. Outside there is only snow, a pale sheet stretching three miles in all directions. Sunset turns the sky into an aging bruise. From the glass, this reflected father looks healthier, thicker, less translucent. Content continues after advertisement Heâs lost in her …Read More »
» free cab ride for a broken heart by Heather Schutmaat Short stories, flash fiction and creative writing online.
Twenty-four hours of travel. Content continues after advertisement She is across the world and for him, it isnât love. Standing on the steps of a small restaurant, on a crowded street in Chinatown. Watching the car drive away. If it were her in that car, she would trace the raindrops …Read More »
She arrived on the eve of the carnival, weaving her way amongst the crowds of flushed faces. Content continues after advertisement She hovered for the briefest of moments, casting a dark curious eye across the cacophony of sugar coated confectionary, before stopping slowly to pin a small hand-penned notice to …Read More »
He normally got the N155 to Elephant back home, but on that night his feet were hurting more than usual, the drizzle lying hoary on his hair, turning him to grey. The N333 is sat in the bay as he approaches, indicators flashing and doors closing as it goes to …Read More »
“My home,” she said, indicating the contents of the plywood shack with a delicate sweep of her hand. Content continues after advertisement “It’s nice,” I lied, knowing she knew it wasn’t but not wanting to give offense. “Sit,” she said, pointing to an ancient sofa with springs poking through the …Read More »
He takes his pencil and sketches a few rough lines on the paper. The swift motion of his hand makes black streaks across the white. He brushes the hair from his eyes and bites his lower lip. From over his shoulder, I watch this master at work. My brother is …Read More »
Waiting at a bus stop on a redbrick pedestrian walkway, flanked by street lamps, surrounding a bubbling fountain that a flock of geese call their playground, where early morning risers throw away their pennies in exchange for loathly dreams, where a little girl is asking her grandmother what âcobblestonesâ are, …Read More »
The wind drafted through the old house perched at the hillâs summit. Surrounding trees lost leaves to the harsh gusts; all forms of life scattered for shelter. The sky was ready to cry, filled with gray clouds that engulfed all of Twyla Forrest. The hills that once basked in sunlight …Read More »
» Bipolar, Lithium, Suicide and The Lost Years of My Life by Jason D. Hill Short stories, flash fiction and creative writing online.
When things are illuminated, life is beautiful. Luminosity is, indeed, a wonderful thing. You are anchored in your body and that body is easy to please. You only have to honor the integrity of your senses. The bad smells bad, and the good is to be luxuriated in. You feel …Read More »