Category: Flash Fiction
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2403: Six Sentence Story
Presqu’île: Where the Rivers Decide Brigid’s Diary, Episode 05: March 1834 Presqu’île narrowed beneath our feet like a blade, and the city balanced on it; north behind us, south ahead — and my thoughts still full of noises that would not stop. At the waterline a pale seam of silt and foam kept writing and…
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1603: Six Sentence Story
Brigid’s Diary, 1834, What the River Knows Episode III – Lyon, The Confluence At the meeting of the Saône and the Rhône rivers, the surface agreed while the bodies argued, currents swinging between quarrel and agreement, each teaching the other a deeper way to move. It spoke without lifting its voice, smooth as glass where…
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1003: Six Sentence Story
Brigid’s Diary, 1834 The Crowd Becomes a Question — Episode II The crowd tightened without warning, sound folding in on itself until every voice became an elbow. I stepped forward because hunger has an arithmetic I know by heart, and the children nearest me were speaking it with their whole bodies.Chopped language and uniforms surfaced…
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0303: Six Sentence Story
Brigid’s Diary, 1834, The Loom Breathes Episode I: Lyon France The silk looms had been breathing all night, a wooden patience that learned anger one shuttle at a time. By morning the steep streets of Lyon filled with canuts climbing toward the Croix-Rousse, silk thread clinging to their sleeves like pale cobwebs, their boots striking…
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2402: Brigid’s Diary – A Six
Part 3, Lyon, December 1834 Cathédrale Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Lyon The Diligence carriage delivered us to Lyon in pieces, every rut a verdict, every mile a lesson in endurance. But we had arrived, met with December’s Festival of Lights, the Rhône’s river-stink, and brightness laid over hunger like Lyon’s silk over a bruise. Felreil and I…
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1702: Ash and Interleaf
Part 2: Of Ash and Interleaf — from Brigid’s Diary: Paris, 17 February 1833 The pages between here and the turn of the Seine have been removed, fed to the fire, their spines cracking like small bones. Felreil says Paris is a danger made of touchpaper and of men who read silence as a lip-wet…
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1002: Six Sentence Story
Passport Interrogation Part 1, Calais, 12 November 1830 The paddle-wheeler pitched us into France; the quay fatigued by tides, received us without welcome, smelling of coal and old salt. Under a dripping lamp the policeman collected our passports like birds he meant to keep, and we surrendered them as one surrenders breath to winter. Felreil,…
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4 Feb: Six Sentence Story
Brigid’s Diary: Prologue Brigid’s Diary: Prologue — 12 November 1830Note: Set before the dated pages that follow. We left England before the crows could count us, a small arithmetic of breath and bread. The field-reapers and threshers learned new names for old hungers; men with clean hands arrived asking who tended the sick, the broken…
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0302: Six Sentence Story
The Tidal Deconstruction of a Beach I. (The Taking Tide)The first pull doesn’t cleanse — it draws out the salts of pretending, the bitter, crusted lines worn too long like old salt on skin. It siphons from your marshes without asking, leaves you stinging and unarmoured, wondering what else you’ve been built from. And in…
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2701: Six Sentence Story
A View on Voyeurism Louise’s kitchen window faces two houses: Alison’s, her husband, a retired podiatrist, and Jean’s — her husband lies face-down between the hydrangeas and the electricity meter. Southeast Ambulance Service stands with him, or rather does not; the defibrillator is put away, as if it’s a game they lost interest in playing.…
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