Flash Fiction: The Ghost in the Tide

The tide came in like a breath and you weren’t there. No body drifting like flotsam, no skin prickled and bruise blue, no clothing soaked in sea tears or crusted with salt. Water crawled up the dark sand and kissed my toes but did not bring you home. In the distance I saw green lightning … Continue reading

A Prose Poem for Wednesday

Please to read my short poem. I am full of white, hot sand. Tiny, glimmering grains pushing through my veins, soaking in blood made of mica and miniscule, broken shells. My skin is made of thick, crisp paper, freckled with dust caught in the pulp. I am a thousand years old, a fulgurite formed from … Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Shadows

This is more like the opening to a book that I have not written. Shrug!   We huddle inside a shadow, hoping it’ll engulf us before we are found. Everyone here travels inside the shadows now, a world all their own since the truth came out, the Great Revelation, the proof that all those nutjobs … Continue reading

There is a War Within Me

“There is a war within me,” she murmured. “And both sides are at an impasse. The battles rage day by toiling day and at the end of it, when all the soldiers are dead or dying, I start to think that maybe I have made my choice. Maybe I can do without you. Maybe I … Continue reading

Prose Poetry: Unmade

There are unmade things in the earth. Unraveled things. Undone. Buried, buried, ruins of kings and barefooted beggars alike, gold uncreated, divided into its component parts, only the potential of it left behind, a kiss of memory in the rubble. Everything lingers, nostalgia for a time once whole, a fragment of memory, uncoupled from the … Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Rusalka

She is beautiful – all dangerous things are. But she doesn’t mean to be – beautiful, or dangerous. She doesn’t mean to lurk below the surface of a turbulent sea, waiting for men to appear in their ships, or out on the pier at a deadly hour. She doesn’t mean to kill them, to watch … Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Heart Song

She was born with a song in her heart, though it took her many long years to hear it. It presented itself at odd times, the melody implanted in her brain, in her memory, so that when anything hinted at the strain she’d begin humming along. Only hours later would she realize that there was … Continue reading

When She Moved to New York

No one stopped to look. And that was okay, was all right, was for the best. When she moved to New York, a few people told her she would be missed. The few there were were close at least, loved her dearly and deeply, and that was a comfort. But now she is here, her … Continue reading

Flash Fiction: The Pupil

An awesome online lit journal called Molotov Cocktail published a piece of my flash fiction recently, called The Pupil. If you like serial killers with a twist, then maybe it’s for you. Either way, it’ll only take you a few minutes to read it. So support a sweet journal while you do! You can check … Continue reading

Prose Poetry: Spilt Milk

Don’t cry over spilt milk, they always say. As if sorrow is akin to something as useless as weeping over milk containers emptied onto the floor or the table or the countertops. As if sorrow is truly so silly. But sorrow is like spilt milk, is thick and pale and fast spreading and hard to … Continue reading