Archive for short fiction
Bombing the LSAT (Flash 55)
Posted in Flash Fiction with tags Ambien, bombing an exam, dustus, flash fiction, LSAT, nanofiction, short fiction, test anxiety, writing on October 10, 2010 by dustusThanking Stars (Flash 55)
Posted in Flash Fiction, One Stop Poetry with tags blogging, dustus, flash fiction, Flash Friday, G-Man, Michigan, Mr. KnowItAll, nanofiction, One Stop Poetry, short fiction on October 1, 2010 by dustusLily held a leftover summer sparkler before her face. Together, enclasped hands sway strolling lakeside. Life renewed. She touched the thumbnail band aide signaling turns from concussion.
Could barely remember myself—only her—powdery sweet mixing with conditioned hair, scratched skin. Enlightened in arms, my solitary thought after hours’ oblivion stood thanking stars we made it alive.
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The above Flash 55 was for written for my friend G-Man.
Thanks, G. Enjoy your trip!
One Stop Poetry
The Chairs (Flash 105)
Posted in Flash Fiction with tags Blog, dustus, elder care, flash fiction, hospital, nanofiction, short fiction, short story, story reading, writing on September 20, 2010 by dustus
A clear IV connects painkiller, grandma’s last rites, and Sunday morning. Fidgeting in pink admittance gown, you could tell she hates her wheelchair—getting used to it John supposed. She was always so free in love and expletives…
His first word was “shit” looking on from a high chair—Grandma mashed peas yelling.
“Maya, come here.” Her demand facing death; grandson’s sad life had been revealed to a stranger.
Approaching light brown-haired nurse smiles as if they shared history.
“This is my grandson; the detective I told you about.”
“Grandma,” he chuckles pointing at her suspiciously.
Maya sits in a metal cafeteria chair between estranged lives.
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Not Sure (Flash Fiction 55)
Posted in Flash Fiction with tags 55 fiction, adam dustus, Blog, flash fiction, nanofiction, short fiction, writing on August 23, 2010 by dustus
Parallel footprints track the smooth, sungolden morning sand.
“God, when’s the last time I saw you?”
“Probably when I graduated college. You and Aunt Beatrice flew to Chicago and gave me that Austrian beer stein.”