ExtraterrestrialOther life from another planet: Alien.Extraterrestrial1 month ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Cosmic HistoryRasping throats, flushed cheeks, burning tongues and weepy eyes share their secrets in putrid air and on slimy, smooth countertops. This kitchen buries its wretched hearts in wilted lettuce and stale cheeses hoping these juvenile tactics will bring a more mundane existence but this is a realm where ties are forged then severed with the ease of handing over a knife. Here I sit, mistress of flavors, running my eyes over each man's shoulders like a hand over the flank of a trusty quarter horse.Cosmic History1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Such grotesque, calloused hands!" The dame cries every time she visits. Her words often fall like dust on ancient stone and bear no consequence on the day's happenings but today is different. This morning's portent borne me at the bottom of my teacup spelt out danger, fear, death and left me with a persistent chill in spite of the season's warmth. My rattled nerves lack their usual resilience and buckle under her horrid voice.
Her nagging reaches my perch. Her berating, demeaning condescension gro
Still FamilyThe children were shivering, though not because of the weather. It rarely got cold in Miami, especially in May. At least here, the weather was nearly the same as Havana. Fatigue at the late hour and yes, some fear of being sent to relatives they had never met caused their shivers. The supposedly heartless monster that was waiting for them watched worriedly. Joaquin’s non-existent heart clenched to see them afraid, but until the sun crossed the horizon, he could not leave the hangar he had sheltered in during the day.Still Family2 weeks ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The airfield was washed with the last rays of sundown when the last three children were waiting with the priest. They were stairsteps, their documentation said they were ten, eight and five, with the family imprint upon them. To those with eyes to See, there was more to their family resemblance.
Father Joseph, his pale skin and bright ginger hair contrasting his dark jacket, was leading them to the building, angling towards the shadows. Joaquin was able to hear him s
A BED OF ROSES ~Part 1''No, no you – you don't understand. Do you understand?'' Jake stuttered and Chris snorted at him. ‘’I’ve never understood love. I don’t think I ever will.’’ Jake sighed deeply and threw himself on his bed. His best friend didn’t have a single clue about what he’s been telling him. ‘’This isn’t love. But of course you can’t know that because you’ve never been in a similar situation.’’ He stayed quiet for a couple seconds, before looking towards Chris who just stood up and made his way to the door. ‘’I have to go home. Solve these love issues of yours, okay?’’ He smiled again and left the room. Jake laid in silence, so he could hear Chris leaving the house. Only when he saw him leave the driveway he got up, and took a picture off the wall, revealing all the feelings he’s been pouring on the pale blue wall for the past year. Like too many times before he took scisA BED OF ROSES ~Part 12 weeks ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
FFM '14.29 Requiescat in PaceDeb, remember that emo kid from the bus?FFM '14.29 Requiescat in Pace1 month ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the 1 nobody else could see but u? yea. y?
ur seeing him at work? u need 2 sleep more.
I got 8 hours.
Ill get coffee if it makes you feel better. Back soon.
u get the coffee?
wtf kit, where r u?
fine dont talk 2 me. see if i care
“Do you remember what happened?”
Kit blinked, surprised to find herself standing in the street. She concentrated, trying to remember, feeling that it was important that she did.
“I went to get coffee,” she started, mentally retracing her steps from the mercifully short line to the counter, then back out the door to her car. She’d pulled out onto the street and then—
“I saw you again!” Kit turned to the young man all dressed in black who had addressed her for the first time, though she had seen him everywhere since the day her car had been in
A VignetteFor many years, S. avenue has been the city's well-known redlight district, at first by word of mouth, and then by the prowess of advert. Yet it is neither distilleries nor tradeposts nor coalmines that postulate around each bawdyhouse. This long stretch separates the most diverse corporate offices, cringing beneath the sun as to fawn upon their Bauhaus flair.A Vignette3 weeks ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My father always jokes about his office being the finest of brothels, definitely the most brothelly in the avenue. He spends his morns in the comforting slateness of staling tobacco (probably left alight since last Friday), moulding invoices and the occasional rat turd. Not a pleasant goodday, especially considering he has never smoked a cigarette in his life.
Next to the office's main entrance crawls another burgundy avarice - some say its quality is superior to the rest, possibly due to the experience of its strippers;
it is called the Alcatraz.
I've never seen it work, to be entirely honest. But I've passed beside it countless
lucky Daze iz Hearing uz AgainYlucky Daze iz Hearing uz Again1 month ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Chelsea Story (sneak peek?? i don't know)❤ hey guys!! this is my favorite part of that story i'm writing so far. i'm hoping it can be published in a journal soon, and my editor and i are going through it with a fine-toothed comb every time we get together!! warning for bullying themes in this. please post in the comments if you have any critiques!!❤Chelsea Story (sneak peek?? i don't know)1 month ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Chelsea’s forehead had a big bruise near her hairline that the school counselor always asked about. She’d lie every time to avoid scolding, saying she walked into a telephone pole (something she’d seen in movies). The counselor would always buy it. But really, Chelsea got the injury from pressing her face on the bus window and letting it bonk her head over and over again. She didn’t particularly like this, but she also didn’t want to stop.
She sat up near the bus driver on the ride home, rather than in the middle where the other second graders sat, or even in the back where the cool kids sat with the upperclassmen. The front was for babi