Daily Flash Fiction Stories
2. Dating someone in a different borough is a long-distance relationship.
3. A shortcut through the park at night isn’t worth the time you save. The bruises fade, but the memories don’t. Hey, at least you get to write about the experience.
[Read more…] about Fifteen Things You Learn After Moving to New YorkBy Carter Merenstein
“Do you think it’s hard to be a bunny?” my son asked, hiding behind my leg as we watched a large brown rabbit aggressively cleaning itself. My son was more afraid of small critters than I thought someone his age ought to be. I hoped that some level of exposure might lead to the understanding that they were not out to get him, but I hadn’t quite expected this level of empathy right away.
I hesitated before replying, “It doesn’t seem so tough to me.” Six years into fatherhood and I still, sometimes, felt unsure about how to talk to kids. I kept carrying, in the back of my mind, some pop-psych ideas that if I said the wrong thing I might scar them forever—as though I remembered anything my own father ever said to me.
I asked why he wanted to know, but he didn’t reply. I lit a cigarette, and we just stood in silence, watching the bunny as it twitched its nose and rotated its ears, scanning the wind for foxes, hawks, and then twisted around to continue cleaning its other side. It really didn’t seem that hard.
[Read more…] about It’s Hard for the Animals, TooBy Amy Marques
When I was a child, a stray cat wandered into our yard, found a little alcove under a bush shaded beneath one of the fruit trees, and popped out three kittens.
“You can’t touch them yet, girls,” my dad said. He was a veterinary doctor and a university teacher who knew all about animals, so we hung on every wise word.
“Will they die?” My sister had the biggest, greenest eyes you’d ever seen, and when she asked important questions her eyes would go extra wide.
[Read more…] about My Father Killed My KittensBy David Clay
“Mom, I’m home.”
She mouthed, “I’m on the phone.”
“Sorry,” I said.
Standing by the sink, the long yellow phone cord fully stretched, she said, “Yes, my son does go to Beech Grove Elementary.”
I whispered, “Mom.”
She held up her wait finger. “Yes, he is in the fifth grade.” She shrugged her shoulders and said into the phone, “No, he can’t be in ICU; he is standing right here in front of me. He just got home from school. I hope whoever it is will be okay.” She hung up. “What took you so long? You should come straight home.”
[Read more…] about The GloveBy Mike Bonifas
Rachel tightens the cinch on her saddle. To her right, Brazos grunts as he swings the saddle on to his horse’s back.
“Need help?” Her brother has thin arms.
“Got it.” Brazos adjusts the blanket. “Need a new backstrap.”
“Someday.”
He angles his left foot into the stirrup and swings himself into the saddle. “As in someday when this strap breaks and I bust my head, you’ll visit me in the hospital?”
“It won’t tear.”
[Read more…] about Night PrayerBy Ann Metlay
In pre dawn’s black, before night fades, relinquishing its starry hold on the sky, an alarm rudely jolts the darkness. Like stealthy spirits, my father and I arise, wordlessly. We awaken no one else as we pull on layers of warm clothing. My father, silent as the night skies, rolls the car down the driveway before he cracks the ignition.
Early morning grays the horizon, and stars succumb to daybreak’s brightening. We drive across the gray bridge that spans the bay. In total silence we climb over the shoulder of Mount Tamalpais; the fragrance of a redwood forest weaves through the moist air. A sharp left turn begins the downward descent of hairpin curves. The illumination of our headlights fights dense fog.
[Read more…] about Father’s Time