From creative challenge

Moments

¬ I. Now is the tinkle of a child at the curled brow of a clown in a moving circus trapped inside the wood of a music box. Now is the blast of a sizzling shower in the locker room before a front start dive, bent down and forward from the hips, and your strokes…

Flying Well

He found he couldn’t just sit anymore. The living room, well, it wasn’t. Perfectly happy with the parquet, he couldn’t help staring at the bump. The bump got the better of him, against her better judgment, which was a quieter voice now. He found his tool box, got on one knee, then the other, and…

Deterger

I did a number on the discolored patch of this room that stared me down And treated it with a blackish, whitish solution with the empirical formula Of two parts acidic love, one part distrust, and three parts eradicate. eradicate. eradicate. I stood there, an Oxford comma under character limits, a subsonic Cry for help,…

The Romance of Ruins

One stormy Friday morning in a still wintry Milan, while Tony grated his rusty Alfa Romeo into first gear and pulled away from the curb, Clelia bit her lip. Why had she agreed to go to the park with this virtual stranger? It was sure to be deserted. “So, you really liked my blog posts?”…

As the Buzzer Buzzes

The buzzer buzzed and Jasmine pressed a button to admit her visitor The followers followed, gaining entry through the expanding chain of acceptance The waiter waited, releasing an apprehensive breath before the onslaught The mixer mixed, a gathering rhythm beseeching all comers to partake in this turmoil The revellers revelled and Jasmine pressed her palm…

Tex and Melvin and the Silver Trailer

She lived in a dented silver trailer. When the wind blew real hard, usually on Saturdays and from the Southwest that trailer would rock bigtime. She had once been called a yellow rose, yes, that was it, “The Yellow Rose of Texas” it was a song. It would be nice in some unwritten future, yes…

In the Bag

She lived in a dented silver trailer, bubble to indifferent fingers – hadn’t had a visitor in months, maybe years. Inside was no better: dishes, laundry, lasagna stains; she never cleaned, didn’t care. So, when her trailer door rattled, she was surprised. Hullo? she called, rolling to her side, crankling beer cans and empty chip…

Calamine’s Tree

She lived in a dented silver trailer. The trailer had been silver when she moved in: it had not been dented. The trailer stood alone in a clearing in the woods, after she’d driven it there herself a few months back, and it had a small awning and window sill. It was the kind of…

Separation

He could see it coming apart before it even hit the water, the kite built of crepe paper and popsicle sticks. She held the roll of twine. He held the damp hands of his daughter, and he felt her skin burning, another thing he couldn’t fix. The kite built of crepe paper and popsicle sticks…

Buttered Walls

The morning after the Berlin wall fell, I ate cocoa puffs, my husband says. He was three, just learning to grasp at the slippery slope of memory, still too young to know what exclusion meant, to know what walls could signify. As for me, I remained stubbornly unborn, as I would for another three years,…