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Flash Fiction

Flash Fiction Writing

the one cool night of summer

I felt the craving in the roots of my teeth, in the roots of my hair. The craving to be awake, to run and not let my lungs or my ankles stop me. The prickling pull of sleep pressed into my right eyelid heavily, churned and begged for my fist to rub and rub and rub. The greatest relief is always itching your eye until it feels like your eyeball…

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Flash Fiction Writing

hush

My mouth tasted like screaming. Everything was silent but I could still feel the hum of the scream on my teeth and in my fillings. The darkness I woke up to was hollow and foreign although I could smell my bedding surrounding me. I stared into the black and waited to feel settled in my own flesh again. I tried to remember the last time I felt settled in my…

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Flash Fiction Writing

everything in its right place

I remember thinking refineries produced clouds, dream factories spilling fluffy hope into the sky. But then I grew up and saw that they were just fountains pumping poison down through our nostrils until they ate our lungs away. Still as I drive past, I see the smoke sloughing out of the chimneys and can’t help but find it beautiful even as I breathe the death deep down into my veins.…

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Flash Fiction Writing

self perception and cookie dough

There was an errant spot of ice cream on the tiled kitchen floor from the prior week spent laughing and drinking cheap wine around the kitchen island. They had sat on the floor passing a spoon back and forth, an ordinary couple with ordinary scars and ordinary hearts beating close together. She watched as he raised the spoon to his mouth and a small teardrop of creamy sugar landed between…

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Flash Fiction Writing

for the alive

True story. The other morning as I washed the sleep off of my face, I noticed my neck in the mirror. The delicate flesh just above my collar bone was bruised with grip marks like I’d been strangled in the night. Hard. My flesh had bruised like fallen rose petals and I had no idea why. I pictured the walls of my bedroom closing down and growing hands in the…

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Flash Fiction Writing

lay me down tonight in my linen and curls

Last night I plucked the moon from the sky and shoved it straight down my throat. All this time they’ve told us it was made of curdled milk. It was made of sugar cookie dough and crinkled happily down my throat as it made its way down. The sugar dust stayed on my fingers and I sucked it all out from under my nail beds while I thought of you,…

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Flash Fiction Writing

all we can do is keep breathing

There are some words that just sound exactly like what they are. They taste like how they feel when they play across your teeth. Bite. Love. Choke. Breathe. Breathe. I’m the world record champion for holding my breath. I held my breath once for twenty minutes. Then I held it for five months. Then I held it for one year. The ghosts stole my breath and replaced it with shattered…

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Flash Fiction Writing

literally

I’m a fan of hyperbolic language because life is hyperbolic and explosive. I would much rather feel things in constant states of literally and hyperbole than through a veil of unshakable and polarizing apathy. Apathy does not make you impressive and isolation is not something to be proud of. Bleeding is impressive. Feeling pain that will lead to joy is impressive. Feeling joy that will lead to pain, that is…

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Flash Fiction Writing

to build a home

My room was shaped like a physical heart and painted bright red with navy blue trim and a blue door. I had a huge British flag on the wall by my bed, a Sweeney Todd poster, and a map of the underground that I’d use to plan my runaways to England when I couldn’t sleep at night. When I was about 12 I put a picture of Gerard Butler as…

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Flash Fiction Writing

if I lay here

“I hope you’re old boyfriends tickled your back for you,” he says and I can hear the pout playing on his lips. I shut my eyes and feel his chest rise and fall slowly, my ear pressed against his chest bone. I feel those first few pinprick tears starting to play around inside of my tear ducts and blink hard to push them away. Keep myself here in this moment,…

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