Yes! Even though the stomach flu has relegated food to a distant memory, I have rallied to produce a (hopefully coherent) flash fiction story. 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.
Here’s my story this week. I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer. Also, what is the best genre descriptor for this type of story? I couldn’t really think of one that fit. Thanks for reading!
I Come Crashing Down
He used to sneak as close as he could, so close that the fireworks covered half the sky and sounded like the world splitting open.
It’s been a while since he’s done that, about thirty years, a divorce and innocence shed like snakeskin but he’s had a few swigs of Jose Cuervo and he says what the hell, I feel about fifteen again, I’ll give it a shot.
He grabs the top of the chain link fence-hands are a little shakier than they used to be but they still remember how-and off he goes.