Tag: Flash fiction
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Construction Worker
In plump raindrops, the construction worker, with his hard hat and faded denim jeans, dirty-orange safety vest, pulls taut a white string that comes from a manhole in the lane nearest the sidewalk. He labors slowly, like a man pulling a semi; like a centaur. With the rope over his shoulder each step is deliberate…
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Modernization
While you’re walking down paths of progress, between redbrick post- Victorian apartments and new construction framing, under berry laden but otherwise bare branches, through the din of robins and chickadees, finches and sparrows, the ancient cacophony spills out from every direction, you know it intrinsicly and realize it won’t be long forgotten even in the…
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Like You Always Used To Do
you look up at the moon tonight, like you always used to do. not the same pale arizona moon, though. the douglas fir points with tri-tips, bent like a phoenix, toward it. clouds pass by swirling and melting. the moon shines with a rainbow halo surrounding it, which changes shape and intensity as the clouds…
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Out by the Cedar
Scared, but craving more, I reached with my hand and tugged on the outer rim, she stretched enough to fit my arm in, then my face and suddenly I was pulling myself inside her, her womb.
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Out by the Cedar
Scared, but craving more, I reached with my hand and tugged on the outer rim, she stretched enough to fit my arm in, then my face and suddenly I was pulling myself inside her, her womb.
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Thug Raid at 4 a.m.
The raid happened swiftly. Under the cover of night where the moans and groans would be a little softer and the insolence suppressed by the tremor of wakefulness. RV’s lined the street sandwiched between an industrial park and rail yard. The police ushered all the campers out of their RV’s, took their names, or whatever…
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Consumed
He was already dead before he was born, came out of the womb like void and now he’s the nightmare that lives down your street. Dwelling in desolation and isolation, he just wants to live in your house, live in your skin, take it all…
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A Brief Transcription of a Phone Call Where for the First Time a Middle Aged White Man Complains to his Wife of Being Marginalized
“No, you’re not,” “But I mean it’s like nobody wants to hear my voice, my perspective. I’m a dad to a daughter, a husband, raised by a single mom, we’re all in this together and I matter too dammit.” “Mmhmm,” “…” “Honey, you’ve had the whole of history to be ‘heard’ exclusively. You’re voice doesn’t…
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Low Tide
The mist was a cloud. We stood at the ocean’s shore, waded in the tidepools, as the wind ripped in every direction.
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The Guardian
The Guardian summarizes the conflicted, straining mind by way of an interesting allegory.
Daniel J Flosi is Consumed 