• Fiction,  flash fiction

    He Wasn’t Prepared

    He was prepared for everything else, but not for this. He was prepared for hard work, for sacrifice, for long hours. He was prepared to do what’s right, what’s necessary, what no one else would do. He was prepared to go unnoticed, to get the blame, to go without. He was prepared for a fight, for war, for death. He was prepared to ignore the pain, work through the injuries. He was prepared to never understand why. But, he wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t prepared for the softness, like a faint perfume stirring him awake. He wasn’t prepared for this racing heart when he heard her voice. He wasn’t…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    Her Love was Chaotic

    Her love was chaotic. It was unpredictable and desperate.  She loved in a panic: urgently, pleading. She loved him with the intensity of someone who is always saying goodbye.  And as certainly as she knew he’d leave, she knew his leaving would devastate her. Even with this knowledge she couldn’t stop herself from going back for more. She was addicted to him. She tried to consume as much of him as possible without tumbling into the obsessive abyss. She pushed herself to the limits of what she could take of him and what she could suffer from him and always found that she hadn’t gotten enough. She could not be…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    We Danced All Night

    We danced all night. By morning my feet were sore and pinched, my muscles aching. I could still feel the thumping music in my head. We walked out of the after hours club into the blinding sunlight black tie and gown crumpled with dried and new sweat. The evening had started romantically. A bistro with pale pink linens and sage and yellow centerpieces. They served tiny entrees on huge white plates. The wine went straight to my head. From there, we went to clubs to dance. You knew the DJ so we went right in. We met up with your friends. At 3 AM, we walked as a group, rowdy…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    I Will Take What You Have

    I will take what you have. Place it on my dry lips and I will let it roll on my tongue and knock against my teeth until it dissolves into bitter chalky resentment or becomes candy – like and I will swallow it whole. I don’t know what you have for me. Is it your tender touch and smile? Is it your cold, quick replies? Will it thrill me and make me dance with sparkles at my fingertips and feet? Or will it call upon my demons, waking jealousy, rage and fear to burn me from the inside and leave me lifeless, abandoned and naked in the streets to be…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    He Loved Her

    He loved her the way the rain loves flowers.  He gave everything, pouring himself out for her until he hit the ground, broke apart and was devoured by her.  He did it to watch her grow, to see her beauty bloom and be a part of it.  “I have no grace or beauty.” He told her as his calloused hands with thick muscled palm pulled her to him by the shoulder so he could kiss her. “I just work and labor. I have my strength and skills and that’s all. I’m just a man.” She melted into him, softening her stance so his abrupt movements appeared fluid.  Her voice was…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    Sunrise and Sunset

    He is the grounded earth and I am the fickle sky and on the horizon his green and my blue make the fuzzy grey line where we mix, where we blend, where we are "we" and "us."

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    Nothing is Missing

    I didn’t miss him. I was busy, he was busy. Life rolled on. I didn’t miss him in my heart or my throat or my gut or in my head the way I missed him before. Everything was normal. Time passed as expected.  Not missing him made me wonder; do I even need him anymore? Did I ever? When I thought of him, which was often, but out of habit, I pondered this lack of missing, this lack of sadness. Maybe he will quietly slip away and I will not notice. Things change. People grow apart. Maybe that is what this is. I thought of all the people I once loved…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    I Have A Hunger Without Shape or Home

    I have a hunger without shape or home.  It beats through my body and fills me, pushing its way out with every breath, searching for you. It’s the way I stand taller next to you. It’s the way I can’t stop from smiling.  It’s the way I like to linger with my eyes on your eyes, on your shoulders, on your chest and on your hands.  It’s the way I’ve lost all formality, swearing my frustrations and confessing my fears as if there were no distance between my needs and your response.  My most primal needs are plain to you as if it were normal, as if I were naked like…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    We Are Trying to Be Good

    Tonight he came to my house after work. He took his dirty work boots off and placed them neatly next to the back door. He sat at my kitchen table in his socks and drank a glass of water. I offered to make him dinner but he said no. I should have made him dinner. He was some kind of hungry and the only thing I could give offer him was food. “Janine finally paid me for the work I did on her stable last year. They settled her lawsuit and all that money came in that she was always talking about.” “That’s great.” I said. “Richard’s daughter had her…

  • Fiction,  flash fiction

    Babe

    Babe, I wish I could call you babe. I feel it though, that tenderness than spills over my tongue and falls out at the end of a sentence. We don’t share that kind of intimacy. Clothes off, touching greedily; we confess and consume each other with our bodies only. Babe. I hold it back. I see your square shoulders and your tight jaw and I know not to say too much. I know not to be too soft. You don’t answer to Babe. You don’t answer to anyone. That steely look, the silence, the calm; it’s been trained into you. It’s taken root. You are different now. You can’t be…