New Flash Fiction

Excited to have a new flash piece up at Reflex Press Flash Fiction. While “Local Theatre Stages Angel Street” is a work of fiction, it speaks of a time when I was still doing theater and played Nancy, a coquettish maid, in Angel Street. The play is the source material for the Ingrid Bergman film Gaslight.

Excerpt:

I have a memory of that alley behind the theatre. The streetlight that buzzed and flickered, yet never managed to light the way.

We played in that prop room. Do you remember? The one with the rotted window frame. Sneaking in while our parents auditioned, rehearsed, became close. Running and creeping, lost in shadows and play.

Click here to continue reading

Plum Cake and Vertigo

H E R M E N E U T I C   C H A O S   J O U R N A L

I was very pleased to have a new flash piece included in the March 2016 edition of Hermeneutic Chaos Journal. It also made me do a crash course in audio recording. Note: This journal is now defunct.

Excerpt:

We were sorting through photographs. The funeral was over: dishes cleaned, tablecloths put away, mementos divvied among the cousins, the grandchildren. The house had been cleaned. Clothes sent away. Still there remained a box of photographs; corners tattered, sepia-tones darkening. There were photos of first loves and distant relatives and forgotten neighborhood friends. We talked over wine and Irish coffee about who those strangers were, how they haunted the family and the generations to come. But memory fades, creates new connections, red herrings to give names to those no one remembers.

The Climbing Pine

Summer Flash Showdown

I was thrilled to learn that my flash fiction piece “The Climbing Pine” was selected as the round two winner of the Summer Flash Showdown. The challenge was to use 2nd person and a sports theme.

The prompt sparked memories of running and playing in and around the baseball diamonds behind the house where I grew up.

Excerpt: The first time you heard a priest swear was at your younger brother’s t-ball game. Early evening, mosquitoes biting, you were far more captivated by the rainbow snowcone in hand than the call that wasn’t just bullshit, but fucking bullshit. That side eye did little to mask your surprise, but Father Joe ticked up a notch that day. “Yeah,” your nine-year-old self concurred.

To continue reading: The Climbing Pine

Mistress

The Journal of Microliterature

Flash Fiction

“Mistress” was inspired by a trip to the Chesterville Witch’s grave in Chesterville, Illinois.

Excerpt: Fog saunters down like a long, deliberate kiss from the heavens. Rabbits dance over my soil – a quilt – this blanket of Mother Earth. Termites are the gluttonous little devils aiding my escape.