e c l e c t i c a f i c t i o n
(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole story!)
Bootcamp Flash Fiction
Seven flashes from Alex Keegan's Bootcamp's August "Blast" event.
Not The Kind Of Pain A Man Feels In The Morning Waking Up Older Than He Was The Day Before
Of hairy Chechens, Chuck had no idea where to find one of those. He knew the local French teacher might have had links to an Austrian, possibly a Macedonian, but only recently she'd lost her job at the high school because of budget cuts.
Stanley's Lonely Love Song
He bowled the handful of teeth onto the glistening living room floor and looked up, peeling back his lips, to reveal a pink, toothless grin. Fourteen electrified eyes glared back at him over seven snotty noses.
The thing between his legs doesn't feel right. It's showing off. It's more than he deserves. No, that's not his complaint exactly. It's a matter of sensation. It doesn't seem to be a part of him. It is but it isn't. It belongs to someone else. It's like an accessory, a driving prosthesis for a handless man.
At dinner, my sister's hair hangs like a thick curtain around her face. Sometimes I'll poke through it, whispering, how much for your last three bites?
Steve offers her a cigarette, but she waves it off. He may be all tense and uncomfortable—it's hot outside and his shirt is limp, moist (and as this story happens some years ago, their car is not equipped with an air conditioning system)—but she needs to talk to him now or she will simply die.
The shirt was almost translucent, the belly worn so thin and smooth you could have wrapped a newborn in it, like swaddling clothes from K-Mart some lost day. It had survived longer than most of the people in your life.
The Bone Coffin
In due course it came time for him to make his father's coffin. This was a sacred duty that even a depressed man, even a drunken man, even a man who couldn't carve or paint, was still obliged to carry out.
"They have crucified me!" she cries, and there follows a list of woes, insults she's been nursing for years...