I always knew the kid was going to kill somebody, but no one believed me, especially my brother.
Tag: flash fiction
The cop listened. He pulled it together long enough to ask the caller to repeat himself. “It’s not funny. It’s theft. Someone took a porta potty!” . . .
He takes off, devil-may-care grin on his face as he looks back at me. He’s not even watching where he’s going . . .
She loved the sound of her high heels on the pavement. A casual unhurried I’m in control sound. She knew the higher the heels, the more elegant her walk . . .
I was quiet. I was able to be quiet. My sister more than made up for my absence of audible response to every situation. . .
I held a glass of champagne in my hand and stood alone under the dark night sky. . .
The strange woman at my door holds a knife and a fork. Her cutlery is sharp. She smells of raw oysters. A bag hangs over her shoulders . . .
It was the jet lag that had set Owen off . . .