Category Archives: FLASH NONFICTION

FLASH NONFICTION (1000 WORDS OR FEWER)

How much longer is this going to take

How much longer is this going to take

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I did not know what rape meant and she did not tell me. But she did want to know where I had heard the word.more

How to Survive Water

How to Survive Water

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Dive deeper into the pool. Feel the spidery awakening. This is how you learn the rapid, shallow breathing of survival. A choice is a fork in the road you cannot return to.more

Hands

Hands

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His hand is quintessentially, unashamedly male. Large and barren of moisture. Fingernails so short they betray a disfigurement, the fingertips shoving them out of the way. No, he merely clips them short. With his teeth.more

Two Cells? Two Cells.

Two Cells? Two Cells.

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He doesn’t meet your gaze but traces the lines of a T Rex with his little finger. Your fingers itch to hold him, smother him with kisses, but nobody taught you how to talk to children about illness or changes in your physical appearance or the struggle.more

Letter to My Father, on His Thirteenth Posthumous Birthday

Letter to My Father, on His Thirteenth Posthumous Birthday

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If you’d shared even a shard of your sorrow with me, I might’ve sooner had the blessing of being pierced with the truth of why: why you needed the sweet justice of Pam Grier’s sass and strength; why you needed to see a good woman get away with doing a bad thing.more

Pictures of You

Pictures of You

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The contrast of this monochromatic life is startling. We will eventually change our funeral attire and change the lens to gain a wider perspective, not so zoomed in on this noir summer of waiting, of letting go.more

Smoke

Smoke

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They’re prepping him for surgery now. IVs inserted in matchstick veins, secured with tape, fluids dripping at a hypnotic rate. “You’re going to feel a prick,” the nurse alerts him as she aims yet another needle at him like a dart. I am a prick, he thinks.more

Two Stories

Two Stories

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Let me pretend that my dad didn’t storm our house, kick our front door until it caved in, nor did he stab it with a steak knife. That as I peered outside, barefoot and confused, the police officer hadn’t noticed me. Pretend I didn’t see my mom holding her head in her hands and rocking back and forth, and that I never heard her say, he’s going to kill us, he’s going to kill us.more

Four Stories

Four Stories

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The day after you died our son watched Star Trek. I thought it was odd because he never had before. The episode was about an invisible spaceship entity that wanted to die. The crew of the Enterprise had to give up trying to save it.more

Two Essays

Two Essays

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Here is the wish I’m ashamed of—that you were the type of grandparent who had a fun nickname like Papa or Gramps, who came to my dance recitals, who called me on my birthday. Who would have intervened, gotten to know me, before it was too late and dementia stole all but your oldest memories. Leaving me with the responsibility to build this relationship that had never fully bloomed. more