Tag Archives: flash fiction

Waking up was instant — eyes were closed, then they were open. She blinks, looks around, and immediately sits up, hissing in pain as she unclenches her hands, dropping a small handful of old bottlecaps into her blanketed lap. “Oh,” … Continue reading →

She stands before the house, holding the gold-rimmed urn. The sacred vessel was the only one of its kind, blessed by her family to be unending, to be bottomless, to be everfull. She stands before the house and feels the … Continue reading →

Star-seared flesh crawls over the cityscape; all the inhabitants of the atmodrome have evolved photovoltaic cells inside their skin — no one there needs to eat anymore.  All they do is bake, laying out like ancient lizards on rocks, regenerating … Continue reading →

Grown of hickory, hewn of ivory, cast of bronze, painted and decorated in lavish silks and minerals.  Maybe just slapped together of mud and vine, made of straw and ash and water. It mattered not — all that mattered was … Continue reading →

In the background, she talks to her grandmother, and I can hear her over the caterwauling of whatever song it is I’m listening to.  She talks and walks and turns on all the lights in the house because that is … Continue reading →