Category Archives: Flash Fiction

Short Story Drafts

Ants (9.7.12/Story 7)


I had just finished my first presentation as Associate Vice President of Operations. I was prepared, confident, comfortable, and all of my key points made just the splash I needed them to. I felt like I was finally “The Man.”

I decided to head to the roof for a celebratory cigarette and whirlwind of fresh air. Finally feeling like I had made it, I stood atop 30 stories, looking down at the flowing crowds on Madison Avenue. They resembled schools of fish or lines of ants. The image immediately brought me back to childhood and I wanted to burn them with my magnifying glass or scoop them up with a fishing net, filet, batter, and cook them for dinner.  Most of them as insignificant as leaves on a tree; I bet if I took out one or maybe a few of them, no one would even miss them or notice they were gone.

I took my penny out of my pocket and rubbed it between my forefinger and thumb. I had always kept it there as a memory of where I’d come from. Standing at the top of this building, it reminded me of the old theory that if a person threw a penny from the empire state building and it landed on someone’s head, the penny would kill them. I didn’t need my penny anymore; I had considered it silly a long time ago but kept it just in case. The reality was, I could never forget how I poor I was as a kid, and I had certainly tried.

Contemplating if I was high enough, I decided it didn’t really matter, it’s probably impossible to kill someone with a penny. I flicked the penny over the side of the building and began to rush over to watch its landing. Changing my mind mid-stride, I realized I was most likely rushing for nothing. I flicked my cigarette over the edge and turned around to head back downstairs to have a drink with my co-workers and celebrate the day properly.




The Sex Question (8.20.12/Story 6)

Jason went for it, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she smiled.

“Do you use me for sex?”

Do I use you for sex? You wish I used you for sex. The sex is good, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve had better without the headaches you cause me. I’m actually insulted by your question. Had you asked if I used you for your money, I could understand that, because sometimes I do. I also use you for your apartment when I need to escape my roommate, and your car since I don’t drive. I use you to make me laugh, to keep me company; I use you when I need a warm body to lie next to. I use you to fix my computer and various other electronics in my house. I use you as my date when I need one; I use you to massage my feet and my back. I use you to pull my hair, suck my toes, and nibble my thighs (sex related, but not sex, not really). I use your ear when I’m upset and need to vent. I use you to run errands for me, etc., etc., etc. Yes, I use you, for many things, but for sex? You struck out on that one. Wrong question completely. Any woman can go out and find herself some carefree, no-strings-attached, dirty, unemotional sex with a caveman who wants to be used, and not have to deal with anyone’s feelings or silly ass questions. And the caveman would know to just enjoy the fucking and not bog down the whole experience with a question that has insecure written all over it in neon flashing lights. When you don’t know  when you’ll see someone again, or what they do when you’re not around; and when you do see them it’s just for sex, that’s a relationship of mutual sexual usage, which is usually fun, but we don’t have that.  So please, don’t lose your cool because I like sex and I like it often. I’m enjoying myself. Don’t ruin a good thing.

Shay watched Jason as he slid down toward the edge of her bed to collect his clothes off the bedroom floor. She loved watching him move—six feet tall, lean build with thin muscles, and skin the color of freshly ground cocoa. He hopped a little as he pulled up his denim jeans; Shay watched the workings of his back while he struggled to get his head through the top of his sweatshirt. She couldn’t help but picture a well oiled, finely tuned machine working in perfect harmony underneath his dark chocolate skin.

Jason slowly turned around and worked his eyes up from the bottom of her sun-bronzed feet with her red toenails, passed the silhouette of her bare body, to the warm smile planted on her face as she sat at the top of her bed, with her back against the wall.

Jason went for it, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she smiled.

“Do you use me for sex?”

Shay paused, then slowly stood up in the bed and walked over to Jason and positioned herself in front of him. The support of the bed added six inches to her height over his. She grabbed his face with both of her hands, stared into his eyes before she closed her own, and kissed his lips. She placed his arms around her waist and put her arms over his shoulders and pulled him into her.

“No,” she whispered in his ear.


Love Widow (7.30.12/Story 5)

Love Widow (Draft 1)

They loved.

Harder than they should have, and he was a performer. He talked the talk, he walked the walk, and she relished every second of it. He was purely genuine, and she felt it in every vertebrae of her spine as he rubbed his hands along the small of her back.

She allowed herself to be pulled in and he kissed her deeply, her body pulsating in tandem with the beat of his heart as she felt him smile against her lips.

She absorbed her energy from the black of the night sky; he held on for dear life. She palmed his head and nibbled, then bit down sharply. His body grew limp. No fight; no retaliation; no resentment. He lay there crumpled—in bits and pieces— as she finished him off, and her belly rounded out to the extent of its fullness.


(Kinda loving these little stories that end around the 100-200 word mark. Definitely want to work on filling them out and really making them come to life!)

Friday Fictioneers: Non-Believers (6.22.12/Story 4)

Stumbled upon the Blog of Madison Woods and discovered her fabulous idea for Flash Fiction: Friday Fictioneers! A great way to generate ideas, and receive opinions, praise, critiques, etc. from fellow writers.

The goal is to write a 100 word story inspired by a picture that is posted every Wednesday. On Friday, we post our stories, and indulge in everyone’s short pieces. Interesting fun!

Her Site:

This week’s inspiration:

My story (Enjoy!):


Bobby said stones could talk.

I didn’t believe him.

I had to prove him wrong.

I walked to the bus, sat in the back row, and according to my compass, we were headed north. Next thing, I was waking up alone as the driver announced, “Last Stop.” I didn’t know where we were, but I wasn’t scared. I heard running water, ran, and eventually found the stream.  Stones everywhere. I put my arms up in a V and concentrated hard. Nothing. They rejected me, but a dragonfly landed and screamed my name. I ignored it, and no one believed me.

(Open to constructive criticism, of course)



Exit Interview – A No More Love Story (6.20.12/Story 3)

Exit Interview (First Draft)

“But, I love you Kazim” Almana repeated.

“I love you too, but I just can’t do this with you anymore,” Kaz coolly replied.

She held her head back—nose in the air—to keep her tears from flowing. She wished she could bury her face in her hands, but decided pitiful was beneath her.

“Do what?” she asked, “You act like this is a chore or a game, we’re not playing Monopoly, this is my life—our lives.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Alma, I just don’t want to be in a relationship with you anymore. I’m not happy.”

Kaz expected their break up to be difficult and vowed to only give the whole process two hours before he mentioned that he had plans and had to leave, but he could tell she was going to try and keep him there as long as possible. They were only ten minutes in and he already saw tears. He wanted to cry with her for effect, and to make her feel better,  but he’d never been that upset about anything except his father dying, and could never cry over a woman.

“And what about me?  Alma asked. She couldn’t help raising her voice now and looking him in his eyes, which seemed cold and distant, as they usually did. “You think I’m happy with you all the time? They’re called trials and tribulations asshole. You don’t just give up.”

Alma’s intention was not to try and convince Kaz to stay with her. Most days she couldn’t stand to be around him and he made her miserable, but she had a strong attachment to the love they used to have when it was fresh five years ago, and by staying with him and fighting for him, she had convinced herself that she was the loyal one. And he was doing exactly what she had expected of him—leaving.

Kaz met her stare and tried to look compassionate and spare her feelings, but he had long ago stopped sympathizing with her. Often, she seamlessly managed to play the bully and the victim, but she had just given him an opening by calling him an asshole. It didn’t bother him one way or the other whether or not she called him names (except if it was in front of other people), but to drive his point home, he used it against her..

“You continuously disrespect me by calling me names, this is exactly the type of shit I’m always warning you about.”

“So, you’re leaving because I call you names?” She asked sarcastically.

Kaz almost laughed, he knew she would reduce everything they had been through, to something simple and try and make him feel silly about his decision. He waited a minute to compose himself, so he could speak to her with a straight face.

“You know that’s not all. We’ve been through all of this before, we have the same arguments time after time. “

Truth is, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what went wrong in their relationship. It wasn’t any one big thing, it was a series of small disappointments that got them to a place where they were always on opposite sides of the fence. He was banking on the fact that she could feel things weren’t going well between them and wouldn’t ask for specifics from him and just let it all go. Individually everything she had ever done in their relationship could be considered minor offenses. But a million minor offenses is major.

Alma remained quiet for a minute or two as Kaz sat and watched her. He checked the time on his phone three times during their awkward silence and this was one thing that made her angry about him. He could never be in one place at a time.

Alma was well aware that they had spent the last two years drifting further and farther apart, but she wasn’t done yet. And if anybody was to leave, she wanted it to be her. He’s the one who cheated on her a year into their relationship, but she had her indiscretions as well, so she gave it one good argument to make him feel bad and to give her an opportunity to yell freely at the guilty man, and then she swept it under the rug. He got caught, she didn’t.

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and sniffed the snot back in her nose. She needed to be clear-headed and rational about this and wanted him to take her seriously.

“You know what, Kaz?”

He immediately knew she was framing him for a set up with that question and her new found resolve.

“What?” He asked.

“Would you leave your job and explain to your co-workers and your supervisor that you were leaving because you were unhappy.”

He knew where she was taking this, but couldn’t find a way out.

“Probably not,” he answered, skeptically.

“Me either, so let’s do this properly and formally. It doesn’t make sense for me to get all emotional and sappy. I’m an adult, I’m 23, you’re 27, we can have a grown up conversation and a dignified ending to our five year relationship, right?”

Alma didn’t mean anything she was saying, but was tired of being the only one fighting for a relationship that neither of them needed or wanted to be in.

‘I came over here hoping that is what would happen, but you started crying and bringing the whole vibe of the conversation to a level I didn’t want to go, and—“

“Don’t be negative,” she interrupted him, “We’re moving on. I’d just like to ask you a few questions.”

“Oh God. You can ask anything you want. But I made plans, and I have to leave in about fifteen minutes.” Kaz knew what she was doing. Almana was a writer for a local magazine and when she was angry and tried to cover it up, she turned everything into business and went into reporter mode.

“You can’t just do this for me?” she lightly pleaded.

“I said you can ask, I’m not doing this forever though.”

“Forever is a long time, and we’ve been doing this long enough already” she said.

He was in no mood for her sarcasm, “Ask your questions, Alma.”

“Okay, well we’ll start with the most important one; what is your primary reason for leaving?” she asked.

Kaz was about to repeat himself and felt they were talking in circles around each other, at this point he was annoyed.

“I told you, I’m not—“

“Don’t say you’re not happy, that’s not an excuse. It’s just not good enough.”

Kaz agreed to answer her questions, knowing that this was another one of the things about her that irked him.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not fucking happy. This is not work, you’re not interviewing me. You can’t make me say anything else. I’m not doing this with you anymore.”

Not only did Kaz not like the way she questioned him, but he didn’t have an answer for her. He would have to name all of the little things about her that bothered him, with them all sounding trivial, even to himself and he didn’t see the point of wasting the time.

Alma pulled a notepad and a black ballpoint pen out of her purse.

“Okay, we’ll come back to it later, did anything trigger your decision to leave?”

She knew she was annoying him, and was enjoying herself a little bit, but for the most part, but she truly did want to hear his answers.

“Yes,” he answered, “A lot of things.”

She lost her cool, “Name them!” she yelled.

Kaz took that as his cue to leave, he had had enough.

“I’m not doing this Alma. I’m leaving. Everything always ends up the same way. I have to go,” Kaz stood up from the table.

“Yeah, you always end up leaving because you’re a coward and that’s what cowards do.”

“There you go calling me names again, but you want me to do everything you want me to do and I’m the coward?”

Calm, once again, she replied, “All I want is some answers or some type of closure.”

“You have all the answers, you don’t need me. Case closed. I tried Alma, I really did.”

“And so did I, so did I,” she said slowly.

“What went wrong?”

This definitely needs to be filled out, but I like their dialogue so far!


Friday Fictioneers: Relief (6.1.12/Week 2)

Stumbled upon the Blog of Madison Woods and discovered her fabulous idea for Flash Fiction: Friday Fictioneers! A great way to generate ideas, and receive opinions, praise, critiques, etc. from fellow writers.

The goal is to write a 100 word story inspired by a picture that is posted every Wednesday. On Friday, we post our stories, and indulge in everyone’s short pieces. Interesting fun!

Her Blog:

This week’s inspiration:

My story (Enjoy!):


I ran, jogging around in circles, sun beating against my face. No mercy at 95°, high noon. I felt a second chin this morning covering the sweet spot on my neck. Plump, malleable, soft to the touch, but unforgiving—knowing it had purpose. I hated it, but it was beginning to love me. I ran, sweat pouring down my cheek, gathering in a pool between my breasts. I dabbed, and must have tripped over myself. Lying face down, my chin melting into concrete, needing help; all I could picture: myself, a cup of shaved ice and a snow-capped mountain—forever.

(Open to constructive criticism, of course)



Friday Fictioneers: The Light (5.25.12/Week 1)

So I’ve stumbled upon the Blog of Madison Woods and discovered her fabulous idea for Flash Fiction: Friday Fictioneers! It seems like a great way to generate ideas, and receive opinions, praise, critiques, etc. from fellow writers.

The goal is to write a 100 word story inspired by a picture that is posted every Wednesday. On Friday, everyone posts their stories, and we indulge in everyone’s short pieces. It definitely sounds like fun!

Her Blog:

Here is the inspiration:

Here is my story (or play, since it’s only dialogue), and I’ve added audio, just in case you want to listen:

The Light

“Don’t go.”

“I want the Light.”

“Fuck Brown, the sun is shining!”

“Calm down, your bursa copulatrix is showing.”

“You know I lost Blue to that light.”

“Blue was already lost, even after you tried to find her with your aedeagus.”

“I’ve apologized. Let’s talk, again.”

“No more words. I’m going.”

“It’ll kill you!”

“Then I’ll die.”

“And me?”

“You’ll live.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“Yup. Now, come with me or watch me leave.”


“Fine. I was born alone, and made to fly, not to hide behind brick walls and be held back, by you.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I Hope so.”

*The End*

Hope you enjoyed!

(Open to Constructive Criticism , of course)



Flash Fiction (Drafts Only)

I often find that a short piece of Flash Fiction serves as a great seed for longer short-stories, and possibly a novel (if writing a novel ever interests me).

So I’ll use this space to share those Germs:

I aim to post at least one 1-3pg story a week, whether I think it’s complete or not. Especially if it’s not.

It is my goal to become comfortable knowing that my work has been sent out into the world and that my head will not explode as a result!


With that said,

Any poems I post are IN PROGRESS and I consider them DRAFTS, unless stated otherwise!

I’d like to be officially published somewhere, someday, so I’m saving Final Drafts for my Hopes & Dreams!

Feel free to leave comments praising my genius, hate-mail, constructive criticism, knee-jerk reactions, etc.

Just don’t judge me too harshly based on what you see here. None of it is polished!