When I was in junior high school, and dad and I watched a horror movie about vampires. I don’t remember which one. What I do remember is my father, a goofy hippy, making a joke about hippy vampires.
The first time, there had been no stars.
I sometimes say that I grew up in the middle of nowhere, but that’s not quite true. If I really think it over, it’s more accurate to say that my little town perched on the edge of nowhere.
Shallow words. They said everything you’d expect. All the customary platitudes flowed freely from their lying lips: We’re sorry for your loss, he was the kindest person I ever met, he was my friend for fifty years, and so forth. Fair enough, in some cases. The comments about his character bothered me the most. They […]
Something primeval held her back. She imagined the roar. No more soft breathing and no more “Mommy”. There had to be another way.
Everyone loved the flowers, even though nobody knew where they came from.
I remember almost nothing about him. I just remember he was there, that I cared for him, and his name.
A flash fiction written in a couple of minutes, inspired by the discomfort of dermatophagia.
I started hearing their music pretty soon after the accident, and every night it became sweeter and more damning.
This little fable was originally composed on Twitter. For the sake of authenticity, I’ve left it as is, including word choices and composition required to meet the Twitter character limit. Enjoy!