Flash Fiction
A series of very short stories for the summer.
“My Cheesecake-Shaped Poverty”
We picked this place to live in for one simple reason: it was dirt cheap.
“The Preparatory School”
I would go in terrified and feel calm again only once I was at least two blocks away.
“Blue Island”
His advice for getting back with a girl you couldn’t forget was to call her out of the blue.
“Wolves”
They said we had too much white blood, we were not dark enough.
“Anatoly”
It wasn’t so much his conviction that upset him as the fact that he wasn’t put in a high-security prison, where, Anatoly believed, the real terrorists went.
“Woman to Woman”
He got to thinking that all things were possible, like when he’d walked the halls of Chicasetta Colored High School.
“Battle”
He is better at words. She is better at sentences.
“Scab Painting”
After the age when I often skinned my knees had passed, he hit upon the idea of injuring himself.
“The Half-Century Dispute”
“You and I, we said to each other, we don’t have to go on doing this. You know what I will say, and I know what you are going to answer.”
“When Stars Collide”
“I hadn’t yet recognized my destiny in her. I figured that my destiny would dazzle me when I saw it.”