Sure it was Halloween, but things like ghosts never scared me before. I just assumed they were nothing more than stories or glitches of the mind. But there it was floating a few feet from me, and the malevolent face carved into it was my own doing. I always felt jack-o-lanterns looked much too child-friendly, so I made mine sinister with jagged…[Read more]
As I look at the paper napkin, my tears start to fall on it. The napkin solemnly obeys its job to suck them up, although I wish it wouldn’t. It was snowing very softly, as if even the weather was trying not to make fun of me. That’s one thing I hate about the snow, it always tried to erase you from the land, and from memories as it covers any…[Read more]
I have an imp on my shoulder. He’s always there, whispering malevolence into my ear. He’s three inches tall, with olive skin and two tiny horns on his forehead. His hair is bright red hair. His teeth are small and sharp.
He reeks of burning sulphur, which like him, follows me everywhere.
He says he’s here to protect me, that I am someone…[Read more]
We stand together decked out in robes
that we cherished most for several years.
Wearing mortar boards that hold no
mortar now to bind us together.
Tassels turned to the front, all the pomp is done
and the circumstances are that we’ve graduated
with rigor mortise grins on our faces.
Backslapping and high fives,
confidence thoroug…[Read more]
They gathered nightly when the marks departed
in a ritual that was followed religiously
after the rides shut down and the lights
dimmed low, to huddle in a small trailer
set off from all the rest.
Some hobbled, others scurried or wheeled their way
to the familiar rendezvous they shared, to play
a form of strip poker.[Read more]
Those Magic Seeds.
A brand new Christmas story of Santa and his little elf
named “Jingles” who saved Christmas in a magical way!
Way up near the North Pole where Santa’s workshop lies, all the elves are in a tizzy, someone’s stolen all the magic seeds that make the reindeer fly.
With Christmas just around the corner, Santa’s…[Read more]
My coffee stained
sits sepia toned by years of
pick me ups and set me downs,
holding a caffeine-laced fix
beneath my bloodshot eyes.
The clatter of dishes and tongues
scrambled like my eggs surrounds me.
The old vinyl stools
in chrome and scarlet poses,
rise in a food speckled formation,
each covered cushion…[Read more]
When your lips and hers
in joyous bliss are joined and meld as one,
and the realization hits you that
true love at last has come
and your heart it starts to hammer
like some frantic big bass drum,
just remember at that moment when
your kiss is finally done,
When your standing in a
rental tux upon your wedding nigh…[Read more]
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Snow had a storeroom. But was it good that I went there?
Some doors you won’t open until full…[Read more]
Fox Kerry edited the blog post Jupiter Fell by Fox Kerry, more at unfalsewater.blogspot.com in the group Flash Fiction Writers: 3 years ago
When Jupiter fell the three were watching. You don’t have to bear with a bully for long–if you are not a god of patience–to allow a mean vessel to harpoon itself into the speary pit of its own making. But no one likes death. And those with half open hearts don’t want even their enemies to cross that guard-rail until absolutely nec…[Read more]
When light no longer
rose to kiss me…”
my lips ached in the
shadows of demons wings,
for I had sold
my soul for music,
and the devil had
claimed his due.
Mine was a
magnificent voice given
that one would die for,
after the contract was signed.
But the brilliance of
inspiration abandoned me,
leaving me nothing I could…[Read more]
I was hitching a ride somewhere on the south side of the U.S. of A.when I got a thumbs up from a somewhat soused geezer in a ten gallon hat. Old, countrified Earle took me out for a whirl in his custom, black Caddie. He had a set of long horns mounted on the hood, and a lead foot infected with elephantiasis mounted on the gas pedal. [Read more]
It was just after 5:30 A.M. and the morning star still graced her window as she rose and donned her cross,and some clothing that even the Salvation Army would not have saved.
Then she ate a bit of pineapple for breakfast with a cup of freeze dried coffee, mingled with hot tap water. It was a schedule…[Read more]
Fox Kerry edited the blog post Wet Sticks (Apathy Squared, part two) by Fox Kerry 01/06/2014 in the group Flash Fiction Writers: 3 years ago
Jessie found two cigarettes where the strange neighbor left them. Why did people smoke? Who suggested fire into a body? The world was crazier than this, but the question bothered his nine year old brain.
The soggy sticks stank. But it was hard to throw them. He wasn’t tempted to light them. They were gross. But the star monogram…[Read more]
When you have everything, it is often said that you wish for more, that myth was created by the poor, and obviously not us. My family inherited our first million from our great-grandfather, who has worked his lackey’s fingers to the bone during the depression, and we are so proud of that dedication. He married well, it’s an old family adage tha…[Read more]
A thin-faced, awkward, frail slip of a man with a fast lip and an even faster hand: he had his fingers on my breast before I could introduce myself as his doctor.
-Delightful Old Man on my Psychiatric Unit
Fox Kerry edited the blog post the gift of the munchkin heads (another 10 word writing exercise) 01/07/2014-by Fox Kerry, more like this at unfalsewater.blogspot.com in the group Flash Fiction Writers: 3 years ago
He pushed the rotten-wood windows, felt the old bricks outside, looked down on the old blue green river. Dirty as it had gotten, down beneath it’s blueness, it still brought hopefulness. American fisherpeople were down there, not far from the old bridge. A crafty merchant had swindled them of their euros, convincing that an orange peel on you…[Read more]
Snow had a storeroom. But was it good that I went there?
Some doors you won’t open until the hurricanes of curiosity make you. Once the protective armor of innocence, soft as it wears, comes off , you won’t race ahead like you used to.
I remember soaring the gardens of many birds. They were the first layer. I swung the vines, and cl…[Read more]
Her name is Iris; at least that’s what her name tag says. She passes me by every day on her way to work and on her way home. Her head is always hidden behind a thick dark cloud and on some days even lightning bolts flash around her head. But one day she seemed happier, the clouds were white and fluffy as she passed me by and the sunshine of h…[Read more]
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