Always Coming Home #FridayFictioneers

“Mom!  A really cute dog followed me from school!  I tried to get him to come home but he wouldn’t leave the trees.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah!  Can we keep him?”
Her mom smiled.  “Of course, if you can get him in the front door.  Just promise me one thing, okay?”
“What?”
“Don’t try to feed him.  It makes him sad.”
“You’ve seen him?”
“Yes, I’ve seen him,” her mom said.
What else could she say?  That she’d known that dog a quarter century ago?
That she’d watched a leaf fall right through him?

———

A whirlwind of research, winter storms, and child care have kept me off of Friday Fictionneers – but I have not forgotten.  For the short term, though, I might be more of a monthly fictioneer than a weekly fictioneer.  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

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Pens and Swords #poetrybyglossarch

Pens and Swords

 

Two Legs

Aren’t Balanced

Tend to Topple, so

Keep a Pen

or Sword

Handy

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The Comeback

Here’s how it happened: I was on the ladder fixing a gutter when the wind gusted and I ended up standing at the edge of an old canal, and this boat glides up all weathergray and brown, riding high, filled with people.
“Going back?” asked the pilot.
“Sure,” I said.
“Step aboard, then.”
I did as he said.  The crowd shifted to make room.  The boat did not rock.
We slid down the canal till we reached the ocean.  I turned to ask where were were going but I realized I was alone.  Then, brightness: a newborn child crying.

———-

My daughter sleeps quietly in her swaddle and I watch her, Godlike, on the baby monitor.  Oh, and by the way: whoever came up with the metaphor “sleeping like a baby” clearly never had children.  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

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The Sparrow #poetrybyglossarch

I open the window and

a little sparrow rushes in

with the breeze.

 

I reach towards the window –

Surely this bird

won’t be missed.

 

Wait, my wife says,

Let him go.

Think of the little children

Up high, beyond our reach

Flashing down to Earth

Faster, even, than lightning.

 

The window stays open and

the sparrow slips back out

quick and light as breath.

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Broken and Loud #FridayFictioneers

The strangest thing is how natural this all comes now, he thought as he considered the red splash of geraniums in the courtyard.  See how I’ve set the table beside me, he said to himself.  It’s as if the place settings are a field of battle: each regiment of forks, spoons, napkins, plates perfectly aligned against the enemy opposite them.  And the clothes. See how well I wear them as I pause before the guests arrive.  Look around you.  See how I’ve written my life in black and white: a broken record, playing broken, and loud.

———-

I’ve joined the Twittersphere as @glossarch!  Follow me, I promise I won’t lead you astray.  As for the story above, it’s based on a poem I coauthored with my friend Jay Reidy.  That last line is based off a brilliant edit he made to my original version.  Maybe I’ll post the poem someday.   Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

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Night Silence Desert #poetrybyglossarch

Night Silence Desert

I

Following the sunken sun
Into the depths of the West,
Venus scatters a handful
Of newborn stars.

II

Beneath the cowl of night
Silence awakens.

Stepping softly, she passes by
Without disturbing a stone
Or interrupting the flight of owls
On their nightly quest
For mice.

III

Silence lingers over the
Bones of the earth
Heaped under the rising sun.

And now these stones are baking
Like bread, and we are tempted
By visions of distant hills
That shiver and jump in tortured atmosphere
Like flames that do not burn
What they touch, and clouds gather
Over mountains paved in sapphire

Thunder steps across the hills
And the trees all
Shiver.

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Unthinking it

I saw her gazing at the road sign.
“Not from here?” I asked.
“Nope.  Landed in O’Hare an hour ago,” she said.  “Headed to Cali.”
“So you’re got a layover and figured you’d get your kicks?”
“No,” she said.  “I’m walking Route 66, heartland to coast.”
I just stared at her.
“Gotta unthink it, man, and just do, you know?”
She smiled at me and hiked up her backpack.
I gave her a whatever look and checked my phone.
Seven new emails.
When I looked up again, she was gone.

———-

My daughter sleeps quietly, the dogs do too, and though I should follow their example I write fiction instead.  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

Posted in Friday Fictioneers | Tagged | 14 Comments