“You know, Jade,” she began as she set the cutting board in the sink. “I get it more than you’ll ever know.” A tiny wave of envy swept through Tracy’s recovering body. She reached for her prescription bottle and clutched it tight to her chest. “More than you know.”
[...]
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Becca Butcher brings us a Flash Fiction Friday. This came about when I uploaded a photo of some deer that hang around my Montana home. They ate all of the plums from the North Yard, then they ate the pumpkins from Halloween and now they have to stand on their hind legs to reach what ever it is on our tree in the North yard. The photo was taken through our double paned window and if you can manipulate it you will see she has snow on her back. [...] Here’s how it went, see, I was minding my own business, she plops down with a bowl of what smelled like sour milk and scared me. I recovered and was getting ready to slink off to another room when suddenly she let out a shriek that could have shattered glass. [...] Smells of cheese popcorn and spring rain rise on the mist. Wet boardwalks lead groups of people in a hurry to see as many sites as miles traveled. Bison lumber and slumber and own it, fur scuffing off in brown bug ridden mats, snorting and keeping to themselves. New pine trees grow in clusters around the bottoms of burned out ancestors from the firestorms of 1988. Shell Spring drains and gurgles and hisses in an endless patient cycle. A cycle of filling up and draining from far beneath the crusty raw opal marks time. Another clot of restless travelers tries to see the big picture as Shell hisses and bubbles and mother earth sighs fitfully. Back in the parking lot a new vent opens and pushes the asphalt away. [...] A Life Less Lived A bedraggled plant sits on a windowsill like the first line of an unfinished poem. A leaf flutters to the sill in silent testament to a life less lived. A body identified as Mrs. Campbell was discovered this morning after a mail carrier reported a suspicious odor coming from this small house at 137 West Port Avenue. Inside, the tidy house is sparsely furnished and the cupboards are bare. The refrigerator The pump handle gives too easy, Tommy scoops some water from the bucket to prime it. Resistance is sweet, cool, Tommy lets the first stream of water pour over his hand and wipes his face, tasting a faint metallic edge. The second pump fills the pitcher half way up. “Comin’,” Tommy yells. Uncle Ed has been miserable all summer long. [...] |
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