Flash Fiction

Very short pieces of writing – prose and poetry

The Withdrawal

blackouthauntedhouse-girl

Fingers, tongue, words, needles, teeth, cock, nails, fists, lips, blades, ideas, images. It’s not the way he penetrates her that disturbs her; it’s the way he withdraws.  Because she knows he yearns to leave with the Polaroid of someone ruined and discarded firmly clutched in his fisted hand. That, she will not allow. When he…

Spam

That’s not what I meant I sent Notice of a good memory I sent Yesterday’s words I sent Black over blue I sent Rapunzel’s missive I sent Saved up absurdity I sent Not a question I sent Unwisely I sent Poste restante, again I sent Inky cold fingers I sent Elvis Presley I sent Spam…

On The Other Hand

Perhaps instead, you come bearing other burdens accrued over a lifetime of seismic events. With a pulse like a warzone, and a tic at the corner of your eye. Torn between a craving for sanctuary and bloodrush of the precipice. A smile that isn’t and a throat dry as doubt. You can leave your sentences…

All You Ever Wanted

Isn’t this all you ever wanted? A place to spend the saved-up piggy bank of quotidian fantasies? I’ll do you and all your acronyms, baby. The glossy, stunned-faced pornographies of consumption, clutched so long in your sweat-slick hands, chicken-choked in the heat, the two-stroke engine of every banal wank you’ve ever had. All the positions…

Ruin

Ruin me before time has its ugly way now it grows short and counted. Between lines in my laugh purity has weathered cyclical storms. I would have it wiped away in a blast of bad judgement. Stain me with peaches sticky-fingered love smeared at the corner of your mouth kissed to bursting grimaces in the…

Knotted

I dream him in knotted clumps, caught in the tangle of  puzzled occurrences. Wedged between the pages of books on how to just get through this one next moment. He has taken the one page I need in the phrasebook of a foreign tongue. He comes to me as a man in a hurry, a…

Sound and Fury

That first three months had been months of silence. Not a lack of noise. The noise was ceaseless. Voices in a language she didn’t know, with its astonishing range of tonality. The dips and rises and cutting off of breath that indicated, not emotion, but meaning itself. Then there were the mechanical sounds. It was…

The By-blow of Good Intention

Now she wants to get in. The woman who keeps fucking up my dreams. Cloth coat buttoned up to her aging chin and a thick scree of make-up forever threatening to slide off her face and reveal… what? She’s half-zombie, half-vampire, an undead machine of unthinking consumption. Even as I lock her out: imaginary bolts…

The Honourable Mishap

Here comes a candle to light you to bed. Here comes a chopper to chop off your head. “Oranges and Lemons” Traditional English Nursery Rhyme There was before and there was after. I remember the chill silk of the quilt beneath my naked skin, crisply urging me to arch my back. My small, perfect breasts,…

Just This And No More

I dreamed. Of him, lying fully suited upon a faded chintz bedspread in a nameless, placeless hotel, and I, curled beside him in a nightdress, my knees tucked up, feet covered by its hem. “This is the way the world ends.” he said, my hand tucked into his. The curtains were open to the rising…