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beauty"you're beautiful."

"thanks."

"why don't you understand what i'm saying? you're beautiful."

"because girls tell me it all the time."

"yeah, but they don't mean it like i do."

"yeah?"

"your face is beautiful, i'll give you that. sad puppy eyes, birds-in-flight lips, rocker-sloppy floppy hair. but your heart --"

"oh god."

"no, let me finish. your heart is so much more. you could fit the world inside there and feel it ache. that's what your pulse is. it's not blood, no ventricle contraction or atrium expansion, it's love. it's the ache of the world in your chest. that's why you're beautiful."

"why does it hurt so much?"

"because love beauty2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Thirty Three Percent "What are you doing?"

"I think…I finally figured out percentages."

"We learnt those in the third grade."

"Yeah, but we always complained that we'd never use them in real life."

"And you know how to use them in real life now?"

"Eighty four percent."

"What's that?"

"That's the percentage of how many basketball matches you lost to me when we were kids."

"That's not fair! You're taller than me!"

"Fifty two percent."

"Is that how much taller than me you are?"

"No. That's the percentage of times you speak out of turn and get into trouble for it."

"Very funny."

"Twenty three percent."

"Let me guess, that's how much I annoy you?"
Thirty Three Percent2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

A Key Point Hello. I'm your left shift key. You know, on your keyboard? I think it's time we had a little chat.

See, I think I have things better than some others I know. Like my friends P, A, I, and N – you know those keys? - well, they've been feeling used. Whenever you open up Microsoft Word, they just start groaning because they feel your poetry coming. Me, though, I guess I'm just feeling ignored. Unappreciated. You know the feeling? I know you do. I saw that poem about your family. Tough stuff, right there. I feel you, I really do.

I know you feel all deep without me. Like the restraints I put upon you shackle your inner poet. I'm not uncA Key Point2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

TearsShe was the girl with eyes of burnt amber. But her eyes weren't always that way. It came from hiding a truth so harsh that her beautiful eyes had turned dark. She swore she could never fall in love.

He was the boy with a face shaped like a broken heart. But his face wasn't always that way either. It came from caring so much about someone that his heart was scratched in cruel, manicured fingers, mangled beyond belief. He swore he would never love again.

They met in a spinal corridor. Then in a courtyard. Then in a room which had a broken window. And finally in a doorway that was too small. And she was crying.

Diamond tears from burnt amber Tears2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

ExcusesHe sleeps like a child without a voice. (And she listens like a child who cannot hear.)
He dreams like a stranger on a train. (And she watches like another fixated by his thoughts.)
He sighs like the first whisper of a rainstorm. (And she understands like the eve of the storm.)
He breathes like tomorrow is his last day. (And she reminds him that he will live longer than ever.)
He sings like a bird in the winds of the forest. (And she understands the sweetness of every note.)
He cries like the downpour in the desert. (And she climbs to the ends of the earth to make him smile.)
He loses his way like a deer out of the forest. (And she guiExcuses2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

nonexistent people"something's wrong."

"what makes you say that?"

"your shirt is white."

"so?"

"so, it's just white. there's nothing on it- no dirt, no ink, no blood."

"i guess you're right."

"then what's wrong?"

"i don't remember how to speak."

"you're talking right now."

"that's irrelevant."

"yeah?"

"yeah. i'm running my mouth but i'm saying nothing. i'm thinking all these things, and can't say them. i'm sitting straight but everything's angled and i think i'm falling when i'm only standing still."

"i think you said that very well."

"then maybe i forgot how to see."

"have you?"

"maybe. i'm missing something. like it's on the tip of my nose butnonexistent people4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

read this without breathingDon't call me beautiful.

This isn't some over the counter form of self-deprecation. It's truth in a full-informed prescription. Maybe you've figured this out by now and I'm wasting my words telling you, but darling, I'm an acidic mess and I promise I'll burn holes through your best intentions. Read this as the label marked "warning." Or maybe I'm a battlefield and honestly, blow by blow, you're killing me. But usually, I'm simply a one-way road that dead-ends at your doorstep and I'm crashing into you.

I swear we do the worst things to each other in the worst and most nonsensical ways.

Don't pretend I'm clever.

I'm just recycled words froread this without breathing2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Moments"You know what, my love? I think I'm going to give you the twenty third of March."

The little boy looked up at me from his cereal and tilted his head slightly, as though pondering this. Then, he frowned. "Mama. That's not possible. How can you give me a day? Days can't be gifts!"

He got that incorrigible logic from his father. I smiled and wiped my hands on the dishcloth, moving to sit besides him. He was at that age where his eyes were huge, questioning and innocent, that age where pain was sometimes only healed when measured in love. I ran my hand through his thick, dark hair. "Yes, you can."

The spoon filled with milk and chocolate cereMoments1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

anemic, broken, and growing up anyway when my sister was five, she dictated a letter to me in her strong little voice
while dust drifted in the sunshine
of our creaky old room.

dear me [she said],
barney is the best. i will wear blue all the time even though i'm a girl. my heart beats without me telling it to and that's pretty cool. i think people always feel better if you tell them you love them. i will always smile because i have dimples when i smile.
love,
me.

"did you write it?" she asked, and i told her i did, every word
with the chunky yellow pencil i'd fished out of my school bag.
i handed her the letter, and she folded it up carefully
and she smiled.

when my sanemic, broken, and growing up anyway1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

LoveIt's the song on the radio that reminds you of what you had and what you lost.
It's the smile that a baby gives when she is genuinely happy.
It's the sound of a laugh from someone who hasn't laughed in a long, long time.
It's the friend who still remembers you even if you call after fifteen years.
It's the last piece of chocolate saved for you in a box you thought was empty.
It's the gift that is exactly what you needed, when you needed it.
It's the two hour ride across town, just so she can see you before she leaves.
It's the dog who waits for you to come home, just to give you all the affection in the world.
It's the companionship oLove2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

a city's kiss"you look rough."

"like sandpaper, baby."

"what's wrong?"

"i'm the pg-version of the rock-bottom girl. got my big-ass cup full of...tea. sitting on the curb with my hand subtly in my pocket...texting. texting my mother. i'm asking her to pick me up. chewing gum like it's tobacco. instead of rotting my teeth, i'm preventing cavities."

"are those the clothes you wore yesterday?"

"absolutely. got lost in the city after..."

"after?"

"no. are you going to make me talk about it?"

"most certainly. were you hurt?"

"funny question. ask a better one."

"was it a boy?"

"ugh. well, yeah."

"tell me about him."

"well see, i don't really talk toa city's kiss3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Can't Go Home Again My name is Jacob Mullins. I just turned 24 last week and got a phone call from my father telling me to come home. Now, as I get out of my car and head up the walkway, I'm not too jazzed to be walking back into the house that reminds me of my childhood. It took me a year and a half to move into an apartment and get a decent job and now I have to take a leave of absence to take care of the old codger before he croaks. If I lose my job over this there better be something phenomenal in that will of his to make up for it.

As soon as I open the door the smell of dust and sickness reaches my nostrils Can't Go Home Again3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Thank You, Slater.I used to go to the nearby campus coffee shop in the early evenings, armed with a pen, a blank notebook, and writer's block. The sense of loneliness was unspoken but well accounted for.

I always shared coffee-counterspace with the same boy, who never smiled or talked and who had a penchant for bedhead and argyle sweaters. He liked to lean back on his stool, balancing precariously as he read novels, and I liked to pretend I wasn't watching him watch me. We coexisted in quiet companionship, thrived quietly under fluorescent lighting which sometimes caught his thick-framed glasses.

His novels changed while my notebook remained the same; his doThank You, Slater.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Vengeance"What did she say this time?"

"How did you-"

"It's always your mother, and I always know. Now tell me."

"…"

"I'm not going to ask you again. Just tell me."

"She…said that I can't draw. I can't sing. I can't act. I can't do anything and I never shall- You're laughing."

"I'm sorry. Certain phrases make me want to laugh. 'I can't' is one of them."

"I'm glad you find my grief so amusing."

"Look, you need to understand something. The word 'can't' is going to follow you around for the rest of your life. History is filled with people who were told they 'can't' do something. You know what makes them special?"

"What?"

"They did it Vengeance2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

An Anatomy Lesson       If I collected the lies I've been told I could make myself a skeleton. 206 hollow bones made of hollow words. The bigger lies are structural support, holding up the rest of me. 33 dishonest "I love yous" could be 33 intersecting vertebrae, composing my curving spine.

       I could gather shards of my 10 favorite broken promises to be my long, sharp finger nails. The 10 runner ups fit on the tips of my toes.

        Spiderweb truths, theirs and mine, will weave my new skin. An average of 20 feet of sticky substance, easily toAn Anatomy Lesson3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Things ChangeHe rode their tandem bike, alone.Things Change1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

self destruction"i don't need you anymore."

"why, because you're happy? you're not fucking happy. you wouldn't know happiness if it sat next to you on a train."

"i -"

"what, am i hurting you? you don't know what hurt really is. you think cutting and starving and purging is pain? let me show you what pain really is, then we'll talk."

"please, no -"

"you're afraid it'll hurt too much? you have no idea. try living. see what that's really like. life is pain. living is pain. breathing is pain. sitting there in agony and doing nothing -- that's what hurt really is."

"wait -"

"not some petty heartache, not your day-old hunger, not your sore throat, not your self destruction2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

RatsWhen I was a little girl, I went to church. Our church was an illegal one: the building was unregistered.

We would sit on the benches made from stolen floorboards and listen to a man dressed in black as he read us tales of angels coming to save righteous men from evil, their swords clean and their trumpets blaring.

The man dressed in black was old. He was sick. His Bible was missing pages.

One day in March, my mother turned to me and said clearly, "Masha, I want you to remember something for when you grow up." Maybe she knew she was dying. "God loves murderers."

I just looked up at her, thumb in my mouth. My mother was still a beautiful wRats8 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

First Day of School."Miss, miss!"

"Sit down Gerald. Waving your hand and jumping around will not make me choose you quicker. Everybody will get a turn. Now, Natalie."

"Yes miss."

"Stand at the front then. There. Nice big voice."

"whatididonmyholidays by Natalie Marsh. What I did on my holidays we went to the beach it was nice and su....sunny. I had ice cream and I went on a boat. The boat was nice. The sea splashed up and we all got wet. Then there was a shark and it ated us and we all got dead TheEnd."

"Very good Natalie. Well done. And you spoke nice and clearly too, but try to be a bit louder next time. Now who's next? No, Gerald, I will noFirst Day of School.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Romano x Reader: More Than Anything...Part 1

You sighed as you stared off into space out your bedroom window. There was something on your mind. It was just eating away at every inch of your brain like a parasite and the stress of it all was spreading through you like an infection.

You hated feeling this way…you had never felt so achy in your chest in your life. It was for a good reason though….

In three days there was going to be a big party where all the countries would be. Each person was supposed to bring a partner along and almost everyone had a partner at this point….except for you.

You couldn't exactly complain about the whole "being asked" thing. You had been asRomano x Reader: More Than Anything...Part 12 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Even the stars let me down.I won't ever be the girl.

No matter how many times I wake up on the faded old couch in your second floor apartment, I won't be the kind of girl you actually want to take home. No matter how much you think you do as you migrate across the room to get closer to me—as if we're magnetic. As if there is some invisible force pulling you to me like gravity.

Except I swear to God, there's none of that and I'm less inclined to believe that love works like this. Like it's some tangible thing that we can prove, define or rationalize. Like there really are some invisible strings holding us together. Like people can actually feel something forever.Even the stars let me down.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Moving On"It all seems to be in order. Let me just read your last file."

"Thank you."

"It says here you used to have a girlfriend who was raped whilst you were with her?"

"Er…yes."

"Did she love you?"

"Yes. More than I could handle, I suppose."

"According to your file you told her she wasn't the one, and that her overfamiliarity with men led her to be in this situation?"

"Er…yes? But it's not like I told her she deserved to be raped, it was more-"

"Just yes or no answers would do. Did you do anything prior to this incident to make this girl feel loved?"

"Yes… I didn't cheat. I think that's enough for any relationship."

"It alsMoving On1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

you have a heavy heartAre we still on the two sisters idea?

No.

Okay. What else you got?

Maybe nothing.

You have something, what is it?

I've never written an argument. I've got nothing.

You've had one though. You have you and your experiences and everything that defines you and its okay.

I know. I'm scared.

Does this help? Imagining someone to talk to?

You seem real.

...

And you're not there anymore. Okay. I can do this. Write for someone who looks down on everything I like. Write for someone who looks down on me.

Shall we go over the rules?

Don't write clichéd phrases.

Do you know what that entails?

No. I don't really like how writing has ruleyou have a heavy heart9 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

epiphany no. 458i hate having sad showers.
the hot water seeping from the faucet becomes tears,
spilling so much misery onto aching shoulders.
it is so,
so heavy

and just

sore.

like the raw-red skin breathed over by fire
because you are never warm and the wool sweater
round your neck doesn't remember how to
hold you;

like a day-old shoe bite lounging around your heels
when you insist on wearing those pumps another day
even if your feet bleed;

the first time in your childhood your mother isn't here to tuck you in.

sore like hearing only your echo when you screepiphany no. 4583 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes

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