Flash, Micro, and Hint
COMING SOON
Not entirely sure, but it will be special.
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August limps past the Ferris wheel, a cotton candy wisp stuck to her cheek. She stops, licks her dusty lips with a snow cone-blue tongue while deciding how to spend her sister Summer’s last dollar bill…
~ Finalist – Paul McVeigh Hawthorne Citation – Micro Fiction / Top 3
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…How could I tell her that if she didn’t at least try she’d probably never walk at all and, even if she did force her body to do the things it couldn’t, she may not walk anyway? How could I tell even myself?…
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He wears his overalls too loose and without a shirt; so does his graying mutt. The newspaper he tucks into his armpit proclaims…
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It Wasn’t For MyselfI have done one noble thing in my life, but it wasn’t for myself–it was for the woman I love. And, what wouldn’t one do for love? I guess it was for her cat, too…
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Nineteen Degrees…Commute times doubled and tripled last night, but I was one of the lucky who headed home before snow started sticking and city busses began sliding down hills despite chains. Several optimistic neighbors have wheeled their garbage cans to the street, but Seattle slows to a near-halt when snow flies…
First and Last Day Out of the Asylum
…I pass DO NOT ENTER in flashing neon, in red letters on white-painted metal too, and as “Mrs. Robinson” fades, I buckle my seatbelt and stomp on the gas because there are people on this overcast Sunday freeway who must be shown how to live…
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…This green—it’s all the rage, you said. I couldn’t believe you—not carpet the color of the mashed garden peas you fed Sheila one tiny spoonful at a time…
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The Judgment of Venus and David
…Amidst what would otherwise be tragedy, the couple exudes the ess, the artist’s curved line and point where motion changes direction, redefines itself, traps the eye…
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…“We’re set for tomorrow?” he asks. It’s not a question.
“You fly out at 6:36 p.m…I confirmed late arrival with The Bellagio and lunch with your niece.” Niece, my ass. She didn’t sound eighteen. More like my age, thirty…
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…grand-mama dreams in whispers of the great artist-colony-in-the-sky as i lie on her bed nights she leaves for that place one night they take her body from me and i cry they burn her they throw her cooled ashes at beach waves i wonder how she’ll find the other artists in the sky if she is just washing back up on the beach…
~ Fish Publishing International Short Story Competition 2007 Finalist / Top 25
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Dear Jennifer,
I hope things are going well for you.
I received a call from your birth daughter, Angela. As I am sure you know her birthday is right around the corner…
~ The Micro Award 2011 Finalist / Top 10 – “presented annually for the best work of flash fiction originally published in the previous calendar year”
~ 2011 Glass Woman Prize Finalist / Top 8 – “awarded for a work of short fiction or creative non-fiction (prose) written by a woman” on a subject of significance to women
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The Last Two Minutes of the Game
“Do the last two minutes matter?” you ask, turn off the game. We all wrestle you for the remote. Later, in your rusted Bug, with red and yellow gumballs spilled and rolling around the floorboards, I stick my hand out the window into the rain…
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Their coffee was cold and the room hot, but they hunkered over their cups nevertheless…Mickey looked back at the brunette. She had a ring. That’d be a challenge. But, they were feistier with rings on their fingers and never followed you around afterwards…
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Offense #1: Muckin’ up all the eggs.
Offence #2: Pecking Aunt Elda’s shins…
~ 9th Annual Ultra-Short Competition from The Binnacle – Honoree
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View from a ’77 Chevy Scottsdale
~ to watch the animation by Dustin Grella, click –>here<–
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Through Adulthood’s Filter: Daddy, Aug. ’79
~ featured in the Wigleaf Top 10 special hint fiction issue
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A Class of ’08 Alumna on 7-1-11
see it attached to the back of a Harvard student who wears it everywhere he goes for a week
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GenesisIn the beginning, The Arachnid spun its web from the void, in the deep darkness that was upon the face of the heavens, and the winds moved upon its web.
And the winds brought forth the first fly to The Arachnid’s web, causing the fly to become ensnared.
And The Arachnid felt the fly’s movement upon the face of its web…
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I wiggle my toes, watch sunshine skip and flash in the ruby polish wearing away from my toenail edges. The sidewalk is hot on the bottoms of my feet as I squat here with Billy…
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WordLoft by Natalie McNabb 
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