Archive for the ‘Flash Fiction’ Category

The Entrepreneur’s Dilemma

The Carving Knife

The Brain Tumor

Waiting for The Messenger

The Black Bonnets

The Entrepreneur’s Dilemma

abysinnianIt was one of those utterly perfect East Bay days. The air so balmy, the sun so bright, people and their dogs walking oh-so-happy, you could easily forget the world was falling apart at the seams.

Brad Browning had been among the happily oblivious until news through the wireless jerked him from his reverie. Now he’s walking down Alcatraz, iPhone pressed up against the place where you get radiation tumors. He’s going for it, neck craned forward, eyes narrowed and blinking like an actor in some gritty film noir.

“Are you ready?” he

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The Carving Knife

wild turkey 2Susan Rasco was tired of running.

Her husband had hired a crew of chasers after discovering her missing from the laundry room where he’d chained her until she saw the error of her ways.

Ray was an ornery son of a bitch from the moment they said I do. Once he owned her, the law said he could do with her as he pleased, and so he did.

This came as a great shock to Susan, as it did to all young women when they discovered what was actually required of wives

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The Brain Tumor

rio

There are few good ways to die.

Amy’s father had recently expired while swimming laps in his retirement community’s pool. There was no lifeguard on duty so his body waited patiently until a fellow swimmer noticed it and alerted authorities. Something of a lonely death, true, but he went out doing what he loved to do. No IV drips, interminable dementia or ass-baring hospital gowns. Just — poof — you’re done. Everyone agreed it was a good way to go.

Amy’s last lap was likely to be more turbulent, according to the neurologist

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Waiting for The Messenger

kale decolletageYou could say that Franky Gumbo was a type. Maybe your type. Maybe he fits your profile tighter than a Victorian corset. Franky Gumbo, the swarthy, foul-mouthed tough whose leather-jacketed exterior concealed a tender heart that had been crushed by a childhood so brutal even his neighbors had PTSD.

But if you told him that’s what you saw, Franky would’ve slit your throat and licked the blood off his switchblade. He’d worked so hard to overcome his sensitive self that he long ago left it for dead. Monica Ray knew otherwise,

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The Black Bonnets

handcart 1

Laura Balzer struggled to compose herself in the face of this new reality: I’m a liar. She winced at the word – a slap to her conscience.

But if she hadn’t lied…

“Honey, we’re out of ketchup,” Muldoon yelled up from the kitchen.

“Check the pantry, love.” She had to play it cool.

“What?”

“I’ll get it.” Laura scurried downstairs and emerged with his favorite condiment.

“You’re the best!” Muldoon glowed at his good fortune.

“Love you, too,” she chirped.

Muldoon thumped the bottom of the ketchup jar, beaming at his precious wife.

Laura paused to take it in,

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