Searchlights speckle a night sky devoid of excess stars, both literal and figurative. Jittery jive-fingers strum strings, slap bare feet like tambourines. Tipsy tongue gently butchers lyrics that could slide into accuracy with more frequency. The cover artist doesn’t try to emulate the great singers of the past fifty years, but he does a muddled, […]
When I’m by myself I’m never alone because obsessive thinking’s got my back (right hand’s got my front).
The color she picks is metallic purple. It reminds me of a skirt I used to wear to the club-of-the-week before I became legal. As she takes in every colorful detail of her favorite superhero cartoon, I paint her tiny fingernails more carefully than I’ve ever painted my own. I don’t tell her that one […]
Acerbic writing style. I had the weirdest reaction when I read the following flash fiction. It was like eating an aged-cheese omelet with balsamic vinegar — tasted weird, but in a good way. Anyway, I kept eating (re-reading). By Iris N. Schwartz Gone one week. This was my neighborhood ─ but wasn’t. Sniffed sautéed emu. […]
Elsa discovered a pocket of warped metal in the midst of scouring the kitchen sink with a Brillo pad that resembled Mr. Turgid’s afro.
As I enter Melodie’s orbit, I pretend not to recognize her; avoiding admittance to an acute tug of arousal that rings like a dinner bell when she flicks her lost-girl gaze over the hardened planes of my time-worn face. She yawns into a lazy stretch, revealing a naturally tan abdomen. Underarm hair grazes her paisley […]
Undigested bread morsels amble toward my gag reflex; unlike deep-throating a baguette, I can handle it.
For #FlashFictionFriday, I’m sharing a stellar short by horror author Joseph A. Pinto about why you should never mess with a father raised to follow “The Family” code of honor — especially if you’re not willing to find out the truth before passing your judgment. As chilling as this tale is, you’ll still have ample […]
Good morning, good afternoon, and good evening. Insomnia’s treating me like a redheaded stepchild. Scratch that — I’m nobody’s stepchild. Not anymore. My hair, however…that color is dyed-in-the-wool. During NaNoWriMo2016, I wrote a YA-dystopian-scifi-fantasy-LGBT-romance-suspense-seriocomedy hybrid called Nobody Knows. By hand. At some point, I’ll come up with a clever sub-genre to assign my baby, but […]