The Book Club
Rachel Zambri knew she’d have to tell her husband, Randy, that her book club had kind of turned into armed robbery and when she did, he said, “Kind of?â€
Archive for Flash fiction
At the End of the Rainbow
She always said paint was cheap. And so I’d arrive home to find the kitchen yellow, the bathroom light green, or the den a different off-white. These weren’t what she called the colors, but that’s what they were nevertheless.
Shotgun Divorce
“Miss Weiss,” the judge said, “are you ready to proceed?”
Laura Weiss—youngest member and granddaughter of the founder of Weiss, Cashman, and Snow—stood and smoothed her gray business suit. “Yes, Your Honor. I call Mack Jacobs to the stand.”
The Power of Suggestion
They’d been in the kiddie park for half an hour when Johnny decided to set the playhouse on fire. Matt didn’t want him to. He thought of the tiny kids, like his brother Sam, who would show up here tomorrow. They’d expect to play house inside, using their sippy cups and Goldfish for pretend tea parties. Instead they’d find a shell of charred wood, the smoke spiraling up to the sky like exorcised demons. Some would cry. Sam would be the first. “Sensitive,†Mom called him. Matt hated it when Sam cried. The tears welling in his brother’s eyes always made him feel powerless. Matt lived for the adoration in Sam’s eyes when Matt got it right.
But you didn’t tell stuff like that to Johnny. One, he’d kick the shit out of you. And two, he’d burn the house in front of the kids. Just to prove he didn’t care what they felt.
Lemonade and John Wayne
I’m getting tired of making lemonade. You know, if God hands you lemons, make lemonade? Maybe my life would take an upward swing if He’d choose to toss a few apples my way. I know I’d enjoy easing a big forkful of apple pie into my churning belly right about now, maybe with a little vanilla ice cream dripping down the sides. There’s just something about the scent of cinnamon and the sugary taste of warm apple pie that calms the nerves in a tense situation.
The Answering Machine
Monday 9:00 AM
“Cal, I hate your new machine message. You should change it. Well, anyway that’s not why I called. I expected you to stop by last night.
“Did I do or say something to make you angry?
His Castle
Once the police let me back into my house, I couldn’t believe the mess they’d left behind. They weren’t responsible for all of it (fingerprint powder—yes; bloodstains—no) but somehow I never expected to return to such an obvious crime scene. This was, after all, my home.
Where to begin?
Kink
I don’t slit Phil’s throat until he says, “I know you love me, too.”