Flash Fiction: When Art Has More Power

The two sat in fluffy chairs on live television.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I was nauseous? It was such a surprise to me. I thought I was getting food poisoning.”

The interviewer smiled at him, but she was nervous underneath the makeup. Her producer told her it would be a good idea to interview one of the Creators, but then they gave her a horror one. Continue reading

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Flash Fiction: Body Changes

Sally felt stuck in her own body. She sat at the edge of her bed and stared at her hand. It did not fizzle, pop, slurp, or warp. She focused harder, and the skin turned a nice shade of purple. She smiled at that until it faded back to her normal dark skin.

“God fucking dammit!” she swore and ran her hands through her hair. A deep anger jutted through her body. She was on the verge of tears.

“Whoa,” came a voice from the hallway—and a pink furry creature stood in the doorway. “That’s not an okay word, Sally,” it said, its voice guttural. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: I Gave Up On Sleep

“I have not slept in so, so long.” Harold picked up his mug and sipped from it. Waiting for the reaction from his friend. The one he had called over for this exact conversation.

“How long are we talking?” George asked, eyeing him. “This is not like that time in college, is it?”

“No, no, nothing like that. That was weak sauce compared to this. I have not slept in… huh, I think it was twenty days now. It has been a major boon to my work cycle, I tell you that. I have gotten all the projects done I was ever planning on getting done in the last week or so.” Continue reading

Flash Fiction: House Hunting

Boxes and furniture sat on the yard. Old and abandoned things of melted cardboard and ruined wood.

Melvin and Clint stood next to each other, one holding a camera, the other wanting nothing more than to run. But Clint knew Melvin was not going to be denied. Dating him had taught Clint that lesson again and again.

“It’s…quieter than I thought it would be,” Clint said.

“No one’s been here in a long time. Duh, it’s quiet,” Melvin said and took a step onto the grass.

Clint flinched. “Don’t—ugh…”   Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Secret Keeper

“I like him.”

Yun took a step back, and his heart hammered. “Oh, cool…”

Gale took a step forward, looking both concerned and afraid. “What’s…you’re not going to tell him, are you?”

Yun had something in his chest snap. “No… no… of course not.” Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Sky Tear

Mackenzie had her hood pulled down and her eyes stayed hard on the sidewalk. She ran, but cautiously. Avoiding bumping into anyone. She did not want to risk falling over.

Shadows warped and elongated. It was getting dark fast. This was going to hit right now.

She glanced up, but not too far, and spied a bakery. The patrons of the restaurant were peering past her and would for a very long time. She shoulder-checked open the door, even though it was not locked, and ran for the bathroom. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Star Walk

They walked on the roads, because past midnight, in that sleepy town, no one, not the cops, not the neighbors, would be out and about. Sure, the occasional screen, the occasional person driving along would be there, but, for the most part, the town may as well not have been in existence.

“Is it pretentious if I say—?”

“Yes.”

Howard laughed. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“If you have to ask,” Charlie said, “then it is pretentious.” Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Life, Huh?

“Millennial, huh? I hate that word.”

“I’m just using the term as shorthand.”

“I get that, but, they’re just people. You know? I hate those terms. Baby boomers. Latchkey kids. All of that. I don’t even know what they call the newest one.”

“The iGeneration.”

“Disgusting.”

George stared down his drink and picked it up, only to put it away again. Half-sipped, and mostly unwanted, but drunk all the same. Drunk the drink, and soon enough drunk in the general sense. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: What Wakes Is Not You

“That’s the problem, you see,” someone said, and Joseph rose with a start. He glanced around, and it was nothing behind his eyes.

And then, there was.

His lips smacked; eyes appeared glassy and out of focus. He scratched his head and pushed the blanket off himself. In the back of his mind, moving faster than any computer could calculate, images slotted in and linked and sparked with ignited connection.

“I’m… yeah…Joseph” he mumbled and went to the bathroom. Continue reading

Microfiction: Medusa’s Lament

“It would be nice to take it all back, don’t you think?” she mused at the stone figure of a woman in a slip-on dress. “I mean—I didn’t quite mean for it to go so far.”

She swiveled her head toward a man with his face in a perpetual scream.

“And, you, I really did not mean for you to die. I was trying to be careful.” Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Poison Air

I can’t handle the smell.

“Would you please put that thing out?” I asked.

“Wish I could,” he responded, taking another puff of his cigarette. The noxious white fumes floated around in the room and had nowhere to go.  I coughed, and my lungs burned.

“You can,” I said. I held out an overused ashtray. “You just stop.”

“That’s not how addiction works,” he said, and softly shook his head. “I figured with how much coffee you suck down you’d get that.” Continue reading

YEAR TWO CHRISTMAS COLLECTION BONUS REPOST! “Flash Fiction: Being Happy In The Morning”

(It’s better to give than to receive, right? Well, since it’s Christmas and all–have one more re-post on me. My favorite Christmas story I’ve ever written. Originally posted December 10th, 2016.)


It’s getting cold even here in Florida, so I thought I’d write something a little joyful and a little warm.

I call it:

 Being Happy In The Morning


Too early to do this, Charles concluded. Too early in the morning. But Charles would not have it any other way. Continue reading

Year Two Christmas Collection #5: Most Meta Flash Fiction! “Flash Fiction: Authorial Intent”

(Originally April 8th, 2015.)


Writers create people.

People they control.

But sometimes, those people rebel.

A story about stories called:

Authorial Intent

Jimmy Twostep was a good man; he paid his bills when he could, and loved his wife and child dearly. He lived a rather normal life, a mundane life.  But today was special, today was good: the sun was shining, the breeze was a gentle pleasure, and the air smelled of flowers in bloom. It was by all regards quite the perfect day for Jimmy.  It was a shame then, that on this beautiful Friday, he was destined to die.

“Wait, what!?” Continue reading