I jump and my stomach – I swear to God – my stomach leaps up into my throat and tries to choke me to death.
I cough and hack and gasp for air as I tumble over and over, seeing green then blue then green then blue. Air rushes past me and batters my face, stinging my skin. If this hurts, what will the landing feel like? Face-first into concrete, in an ideal world. Will I feel anything at all or will it all be over before I know it? Continue reading “The Big Jump | Flash Fiction”
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he picked his way through the crisscross of lasers. The diamond was almost within his grasp.
His nose tickled. No. No, no, no. How could this happen to him at the very last moment?
He scrunched up his face, pushed his tongue up onto the roof of his mouth, closed his eyes and held his breath.
The tickle intensified. He couldn’t stop it. Continue reading “In Bits | Microfiction”
Fiona sees her parents’ car pull into the driveway and she slaps her little sister across the face.
“Snap out of it, Penny. Now. Do you hear me? Now!”
Thirteen-year-old Penny doesn’t snap out of it. She continues to stare at the ceiling, her pupils enormous black holes sucking in reality and twisting it into who knows what. Continue reading “High as a Kite | Flash Fiction”
His eyes are stinging and prickly by the time he pulls up in front of his house at 2 A.M. An eight-hour drive, preceded by a ten-hour flight, makes for a mightily weary man. He thinks of his bed, soft and warm and utterly glorious.
He looks at his home. Every single light is turned off. Even the porch light.
“Damn it,” he mutters. “What did I tell her? Literally the last thing I said to her. ‘Leave the porch light on.’ How hard is that?” Continue reading “Whoopsie-Daisy | Flash Fiction”
Three strangers cling together, grubby, weak, and utterly terrified of the knives and guns and nail-ridden planks of wood that surround them.
“You’ll hand over everything you’ve got in exchange for safe passage through the valley.” Cain picks at his fingernails with the tip of his hunting knife. “Two of our own will escort you. They’ll leave you to continue your journey on the other side.”
One of the strangers shakes his head. “You can’t take everything. We need it to survive.” Continue reading “Part of Something | Short Story”
I look in the mirror and grimace. Deep bags under my eyes. Pimples on my chin. Eyebrows in dire need of a pluck.
“Gross,” I whisper to myself.
“Who the hell are you calling gross?” I say back.
It’s me, talking back to me. My reflection is moving of its own accord and it’s talking to me. Continue reading “Pep Talk | Flash Fiction”
He rolls over in bed to find her side empty and cold. There’s an envelope on the pillow with his name penned in her hand. Already he knows she’s gone.
He checks every room of the house, just to be sure. And then he pulls back the curtains in the living room and peers out at the creatures outside. They’re still there, dependable as ever. But she’s gone. Continue reading “You’re Right | Flash Fiction”
The horses neigh and whinny furiously, wielding their betting slips between their teeth as they stare at the television screen.
“Go on, you can do it!”
“That’s it, you beauty! Faster. Go faster!”
“Kick. Kick, dammit. Buck like your life depends on it!” Continue reading “When the Shoe is on the Other Hoof | Microfiction”
“I won’t take them off. I refuse to.” She folds her arms and glares at her husband. “And anyway, it was you who told me I should wear them all the time. ‘If you’re going to spend hundreds of pounds on shoes, you better wear them every single day and get your money’s worth,’ you said. So I did. And now you’re blaming me for this mess.”
“I didn’t mean literally every day.”
“But that’s what you said!” Continue reading “Get Your Money’s Worth | Flash Fiction”
The green tinge started in her toes. She was convinced it was a fungal infection, but her Google searches insisted that a fungal infection couldn’t spread all the way up her foot and to her ankles, and certainly not within 24 hours. Continue reading “Green | Flash Fiction”