Category: Flash Fiction
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0807: Six Sentence List Poem
The Colour of Thunder a list poem of six sentences THE COLOUR OF THUNDER the colour of thunder isdaybreak,the blue shinein a crow’s feather. a boatwithout water,a skinned knee,sunburn. a preacherwithout a pulpit,the snapof a wet towel. the prickof a rose’s thorn. the blue noiseof a siren. we call itthunder. Previous Instalments – For the…
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0507: Six Sentence Poem
Two Six Sentence Poems: Thunder I. Thunder Thunder wilts through July’s green oak.Distance beyond distance.Sun-bleached blue.We renamed the cloudless sky Thunder.Its heat soaked into the flagstones.Then again, it rumbled —the long arm from a constellation. II. Thunder Cloudless all afternoon.Thunder somewhere beyond the hills. The flagstones giving backeverything the sun had taken. But no storm…
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0207: Brigid’s Diary – A Six
The Epilogue: A Return to Thyme Brigid and Felreil left Room 215 as they had entered it, by the hidden closet, with the good sense not to ask whether one century had finished or merely misplaced them in someone else’s plan. The bellhop-automaton raised a final card, though neither of them paused to read it;…
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3006: Brigid’s Diary – Two Sixes
Part 15 & 16: 1842, Cagnes-sur-Mer, France (Brigid’s Diary, Winter: 1842: one year on) Where is Felreil?That’s what I want to know. Where is he in his black frock coat, moving as if Boreas lived in its pockets, striding streets and alleys in long English-blackened boots, as though Provence’s glossy night had always been part…
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2906: Six Sentence Story
Brigid and Felreil Arrive in Room 215 Brigid and Felreil came through the hidden closet of Room 215 as though stepping between centuries were merely a poor plan carried out with good manners, and Felreil, without visible surprise, laid his French Imperial Navy-cut coat across a time-aged leather wing-back chair with the air of a…
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2406: Six Sentence Story
Clam Chowder Summer heatwave; you’ve fallen asleep with The Telegraph spread across your knees. I remember our second date: we spoke of death, a girlfriend, a fire, a club with locked exits; only those who’d paid went in. Most of them didn’t, you paused, and I finished the sentence. It was that time of year…
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2306: Brigid’s Diary – A Six
Part 14, Brigid’s Diary: Winter, 1836 – 1841, Cagnes-sur-Mer, France Where Waiting Is Believing The arbours are vine-brittle skeletons touched with ice; terracotta pots lay shattered by winter’s slow fist, and even the small grey angels above the door have surrendered to grimaces. For these five years, we’ve lived in a stone cottage adjoining the…
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1606: Brigid’s Diary – A Six
Part 13, Brigid’s Diary: The Abbey of Saint-Roman Beaucaire, July 1836, Camouflage The Beaucaire Fair moved like the Rhône in flood, bodies and bargains braiding into one slow current, and Felreil folding his foreignness into the merchants’ black coats and polished leather while quick fingers rehearsed their small rebellions at the height of a purse.…
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0906: Brigid’s Diary – A Six
Brigid’s Diary: Part 12.2, Arles, Spring 1836 Under the Floorboard The shouting started next door: boots on stairs, a man’s voice like a stomp, the scrape of furniture across wood, and the thin-pitched sound of children when they learn the house is not theirs. I tasted blood where I’d bitten my lip without noticing, salt…
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0306: Slightly Dangerous
(an off-piste Everywhere Poem gone for Six) “How is it in there?” asks a man. “In a word, chaos,” I tell him,“but worth it; the olive oil is half price,” and I close the boot of my car while his wife claims my empty trolley. I hate this placebut always return,navigating the demonic ritualsof warehouse…
It's Still Life 