Flash Fiction Series #1: The Cup

Here’s the first of many weekly Flash Fiction pieces I will be posting. All pieces will have less than 150 words.

The Cup

The dog barks at the sound of the mail man shuffling onto the porch. Marie walks into the kitchen, the coffee maker almost done gurgles the last bits of hot water and spits out the hot black nectar. She pours herself a cup and listens to the dog walking through the house. There is something a little hard, a little chewy in her mouth. She sighs, frustrated, getting rinds in her coffee again? Marie dumps out the rest of her cup into the sink, her stomach turns. The dead washed up body of a giant spider lays lifeless in a pool of coffee slowly dripping down the drain, a leg missing.

THE END

Read Next:

Cowboy in the Desert

Hospital Stay

Dinner


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Free Hand #17

Back in SLC. Super tired. Here are some random mutterings.

Listening to: Restless Babe by SKATERS


 

The sun peaks over the horizon. Moving through clouds,

sitting on, waiting for, the end of one more day then another.

Closer, it keeps ticking by and my blood boils

under fire, in the heat, my mind explodes. Why are you so quiet?

Why are so cold? That’s what happens when you live up in the sky.


 

If you are reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing! I hope you return in the future!

-Alina

Free Hand #15 (Give Me My Music)

It’s been raining all week. Nice weather, I like it very much. Currently reading about four books simultaneously on different things, fiction and poetry books. Also listening to Lady Gaga’s latest album Joanne (2016).


 

Cannot see the sun,

the blood in my mouth bubbles over my lips

and my mind swims in the dark. Twisting

thoughts and reminiscing about days

that never happened. You turn up and turn down

the music. I am angry and want nothing more

than a beat and voice to keep me going.

Life isn’t all dances and fun. There’s

heartache too.

oh well, never thought you’d be so rigid

about things like that.

Feel the dust in the air rise, right before it rains

right before a peel of thunder, shakes the house

with you and me inside.

I cannot see the sun anymore,

all I want is my music on a dark rainy day

give that to me, would you?


 

If you are reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing. I hope you turn in the future!

-Alina

Free Hand #14 (Speculative Poetry)

It’s only Tuesday and it feels like the end of the week for me. I often take into account the weather when I start my daily writing. I try to work through my environment before writing on other subjects. Also, listening to: Veruca Salt, Album: Ghost Notes (2015)

 


 

SPECULATIVE POETRY

 

Daytime with night sky and thunder

overhead. Trying to keep myself warm

with coffee and electric ideas that

shimmer under the surface of my mind.

Twisting words into sentences, chiseling

and carving out a paragraph takes an

entire day. It’s raining and I am attempting

to connect thoughts with reality. The bitterness

in the back of my throat, music keeps me going,

words are only tools. Use your tools wisely.

 


 

Thank you for reading!

-Alina

 

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( mm / dd )

Free Hand #13 (Synthetic City)

Today is one of those days that I struggle with SLC. This is a rough piece that I jotted down about my own personal conflict with SLC.


 

My blood is hot and the water

boils against my skin. The cool wave

of wind holds tight to my skin,

breathing through my clothes

and outlining my body.

You look up into the sky and wonder

if there is anything at all, I say,

don’t bother looking, does it

even matter?

My bones begin to crack under

the strain of living in a city

built over plains. A synthetic

place made of hopes and tears,

fake a smile and let it all

go, this place died long ago.

 


 

If you are reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing! I hope you return in the future!

-Alina