Flash Fiction: He Called Her Name

Every time he called her name, she drowned. Limbs reaching involuntarily heavenward, she sank. Her lungs filled with no air, her mind slowly, surely, shut down. She suffocated on the breath she’d draw to respond. She’d forget her name, her age, her place of birth. Her tongue shifted laboriously, heavy and useless in her mouth, … Continue reading

Flash Fiction: The Boat

Once upon a time, there was a boat. It was a simple boat, crafted by bare, rough hands in the heat of summer with carefully bowed planks of red cedar. It was large enough for two but never more than that, though that had never been a worry. There were only two, had only ever … Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Cigarettes

He sits here with me in the darkness, smoking. God, how I used to hate smoking. I knew someday it would rob me of people I loved. Am I really so cynical these days, that I don’t even worry about that anymore? For fuck’s sake, it’s just a cigarette. For fuck’s sake, it’s not going … Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Beast

It was the hardest choice, and yet, one could argue, there truly was no choice at all. Not for her, not now. The choice had been made for her, years ago, and it was a good choice, and she was grateful for it. And yet. And yet here was a problem, the problem. The only … Continue reading

Prose Poetry: Wishing Well

And I am at the point where everything has turned upside down and now it is the tips of my hair grazing the stones, not my feet at all. There is a wishing well some distance from here but I don’t think it works because I’ve wished and wished for someone to just tell me, … Continue reading


There is a railroad not far from here. To the south of it, about ten yards away, there are several warehouses, some abandoned. To the north, there is wild buffalo grass and sunflowers, as far as the eye can see. I’ve walked along the tracks many times. The trains still use it to carry coal, … Continue reading

Flash Fiction: The Room

He sits on a chair in the middle of a dark, dingy room. He waits, as always, for the door to open, for someone to come in, for someone to rescue him from this place. No, he is not bound to the chair. His feet are not nailed to the cracked and moldering floor of … Continue reading

Flash Fiction: The Fire

Well there’s no other way to describe it. If they were any hotter (hate, sex, love, whatever you wanna call it cause they’re all the same thing in this house) they’d be on fire, burning to a crisp, to the absolute core, there wouldn’t be anything left except the ache and the misunderstanding. Every day … Continue reading