Category: FlashFiction

When my phone went from flashing traffic delays to flashing ads for camping gear, I should have known I was screwed.

We were sitting at the bar at Bell’s Eccentric Cafe, silently sipping beers when my brother’s phone rang.

I was loitering in the parking lot when the armed robber ran out of the store.

He seemed like a good kid right up until the moment he shot me.

Things had changed since the last zombie apocalypse.

Jim stared at his wife’s car in the driveway. His head throbbed.

The conversation begins as she steps out of the shower. Neither of us can hear the other over the running water or the fan, but I’m not sure it matters.

Quimby stared blankly at the old earth man.

It’s amazing what runs through your mind when you’re handcuffed, wrapped in chains, and hanging upside down from a gymnasium ceiling over a bed of flaming swords.

No matter where you sit, there’s a light breeze. I don’t think the windows are sealed very well.

The house always smells musty. There’s a kind of damp chill with just a whiff of mold and mildew and decay. I don’t want to complain, but it’s not a great environment for someone my age.

I feel like I’ve been a prisoner in my house for two years, but I’m still not sure I want to leave. I’m still not sure I’ll ever be comfortable outside. In a crowd. Even in a mask.

Fortunately, the store delivers. I miss people though.