Posts Tagged: flashfiction

what did the maid think when she found broken glass in the rubbish?

I wrote this story yesterday, before sunrise, before I had to wake the kid up and drive him to school, before my customary breakfast of fruit and granola bowl at a cafe where they play soppy 80s music and let

what did the maid think when she found broken glass in the rubbish?

I wrote this story yesterday, before sunrise, before I had to wake the kid up and drive him to school, before my customary breakfast of fruit and granola bowl at a cafe where they play soppy 80s music and let

the butterfly collector

Here’s the link to my latest flash fiction on Hijacked Amygdala.  It’s about infidelity, the least original of sins. Also have a look at brilliant art and poetry from Anna Spoon. It blows the mind.   the butterfly collector It

the butterfly collector

Here’s the link to my latest flash fiction on Hijacked Amygdala.  It’s about infidelity, the least original of sins. Also have a look at brilliant art and poetry from Anna Spoon. It blows the mind.   the butterfly collector It

ernesto

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by deger bakir You wore a skirt, it was purple, a favourite, its lace fringe limp against your brown thighs. And a pink translucent blouse, the top buttons undone from which a crucified Jesus…

ernesto

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by deger bakir You wore a skirt, it was purple, a favourite, its lace fringe limp against your brown thighs. And a pink translucent blouse, the top buttons undone from which a crucified Jesus…

dead things

Dead Things: My flash fiction piece for the week on Hijacked Amygdala. Proceed with caution.

dead things

Dead Things: My flash fiction piece for the week on Hijacked Amygdala. Proceed with caution.

elastic phantasm

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
collage by Deger Bakir Kate and I were the only ones on the beach. The rains were over but the sky was still gray and people were afraid to come out. Even the seagulls stayed…

elastic phantasm

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
collage by Deger Bakir Kate and I were the only ones on the beach. The rains were over but the sky was still gray and people were afraid to come out. Even the seagulls stayed…

this ends badly

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by monika kozak I met her at a party, it was someone’s birthday, someone introduced us and I fell in love with her thick eyelashes and the dark shadows under her eyes. ‘I don’t…

this ends badly

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by monika kozak I met her at a party, it was someone’s birthday, someone introduced us and I fell in love with her thick eyelashes and the dark shadows under her eyes. ‘I don’t…

something about merry

1. Alexander spelt her name Merry but he pronounced it right, so his mother didn’t bother correcting him. Besides it suited her, thought Sophie– Mary was a cheerful little soul. 2. Mary cleaned their house, took care of Alexander, now

something about merry

1. Alexander spelt her name Merry but he pronounced it right, so his mother didn’t bother correcting him. Besides it suited her, thought Sophie– Mary was a cheerful little soul. 2. Mary cleaned their house, took care of Alexander, now

notes of a voyeur

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by poo reun i have fallen into the habit of waiting for her in the mornings. i like to watch her struggle with the cafe’s heavy glass doors, yellow bike helmet in one hand,…

notes of a voyeur

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by poo reun i have fallen into the habit of waiting for her in the mornings. i like to watch her struggle with the cafe’s heavy glass doors, yellow bike helmet in one hand,…

you don’t believe in fukú but fukú believes in you

I’ve just posted my first piece of fiction on hijackedamygdala.com: ‘you don’t believe in fukú but fukú believes in you’

you don’t believe in fukú but fukú believes in you

I’ve just posted my first piece of fiction on hijackedamygdala.com: ‘you don’t believe in fukú but fukú believes in you’

waiting for eva 

Eva wore a solemn expression that reminded him of her copious use of commas, colons, and semi-colons when she was being serious. He laughed, and knew that he was fucked.

waiting for eva 

Eva wore a solemn expression that reminded him of her copious use of commas, colons, and semi-colons when she was being serious. He laughed, and knew that he was fucked.

what’s the dill, pickle?

Originally posted on Conceited Crusade:
She tried to twist the lid free. It was no use. Stupid goddamned pickle jar. All she wanted was one fucking pickle. He had always been handy for things like that. Not for listening. Or…

what’s the dill, pickle?

Originally posted on Conceited Crusade:
She tried to twist the lid free. It was no use. Stupid goddamned pickle jar. All she wanted was one fucking pickle. He had always been handy for things like that. Not for listening. Or…

six word story no. 14

it rained in the cartographer’s dream.

six word story no. 14

it rained in the cartographer’s dream.

moonstruck

the magic mushrooms was your idea. It was your first time in the tropics, with him, this man you were beginning to like. You thought what better way to push past the clumsy peeling of layers than coupling within a

moonstruck

the magic mushrooms was your idea. It was your first time in the tropics, with him, this man you were beginning to like. You thought what better way to push past the clumsy peeling of layers than coupling within a

A.M.

Used to be the first thing she would reach for was a cigarette. She never smoked in bed but the stick fresh out of its pack was a lure to the fish in her that swam in dreams that were

A.M.

Used to be the first thing she would reach for was a cigarette. She never smoked in bed but the stick fresh out of its pack was a lure to the fish in her that swam in dreams that were

my farmer’s feet

farmer’s feet, my sisters call them. toes spread out so they can grip the earth and soles thick and dark as mud. or maid’s feet, and giggling they point at the short, thin, dark-skinned lady mum hired so she could

my farmer’s feet

farmer’s feet, my sisters call them. toes spread out so they can grip the earth and soles thick and dark as mud. or maid’s feet, and giggling they point at the short, thin, dark-skinned lady mum hired so she could