The value of a life. As we crossed the bridge, the sound of whistling bombs forewarned of the hell we approached, when they crashed into the earth and defiled it, sending water up and people
Continue ReadingTag: Flash fiction
A Single Kraut
“Single Kraut, patrolling the edge of the trench, e’s roughly… I dunno… two hundred and fifty to three hundred metres?” Four fine lines intersected over the lone boy’s chest. The crosshair sat there considering. Then,
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Flow
This was an 80 word flash-fiction for a writing competition I have entered. Flow. Colours are twisting and pulsing through my hands, my legs swing with salient beauty over my head. My converse trainers squeak
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Show me rain
Show me rain. The woman walked across the street, violin in its case, yellow cabs streaking by. The rain fell and fell and fell and fell. She was pale, her coat pulled up over her
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Flashes
Flashes. Bored. I was bored. Not just bored though, stupendously; unequivocally bored. The teacher at the head of the class kept groaning on about something – I couldn’t remember what class I was in –
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Feathers
Feathers. When white feathers, plucked from their maidens fell, when the ruby liquid of my sisters flooded the ground, when squawks and the innocent man called for our death, I knew my war had been
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