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Tag Archives: flash fiction

blue-bird

This is one of the first pieces I wrote for my flash fiction project Small Stories. It’s about seagulls (this story, not the project).

Two seagulls stand on a bench, looking out over the water.

“I think Janet is going to leave me,” says the first gull.

“Why?” asks the second gull. He focuses on the first gull’s eye, yellow and black-flecked and taking in the better part of the bay. Or maybe the worse part, depending on who you ask.

“She’s been acting strange,” he replies. “I don’t think she’s happy.”

Read “South” on Medium
Read 100+ flash fiction stories at SmallStories.me

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Sometimes I get poetry and prose mixed up in my head, and I end up writing something like this.

Every story ever written is made up of the same twenty-six letters, just in different combinations. That’s a finite number. You can’t just create more letters – at least, not letters that will make any sense to anybody. So every story that ever is, was, or will be is shackled by those twenty-six elegant little restrictions.

Which means that there is only a finite number of stories.

Read “Monkeys” on Medium

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The end of the world from the inside of a corporate office.

When the sky turned red and space rocks started falling from above, and the seas all rose and hurricanes started buffeting the shores, and the forests were consumed with flames and all the nuclear missiles started counting down, there wasn’t really anywhere to run. Instead we all laid on our backs on the conference table and looked at the ceiling.

“How many ceiling tiles do you think there are?” asked Sheila, from accounting.

“I don’t know,” said Jim. He turned his head. “Do you mean here, or in the whole building? Or in the whole world?”

Read “Meeting” on Medium

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A story about doorways.

One day Joey opened her closet and found another universe inside, a void specked with white and blue stars, with spinning planets and shooting comets, stretched out where her shoes and skirts should have been. She closed the door.

She stood there with her hand on the knob. The door looked the same as any other day. The knob felt the same to her fingertips. She put her ear to the wood and couldn’t hear a sound.

Read “Closet” on Medium

 

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A short story about technology (kinda) and relationships (mostly).

“It’s called ‘Countdown,’” says Brian. He looks away from his phone to smile at the bartender as she hands him another beer, then looks back at us. “It’s free.”

He turns the screen towards us and — I hate to say this — it actually looks cute. The cartoon clock, with little clock arms and clock legs, and one hand on his clock hip. “Countdown” is plastered in colorful letters at the top of the screen.

Read “Last Call” on Medium