the sleuth watched from upstairs,a hidden alcove giving them adiscreet viewpoint as a minor act of defenestrationwas committed.the smartphone landed withbarely a sound. gritting their teeth against triskaidekaphobiathey made their way down the thirteen stairs running into the matriarch of the house,an agelast with a blank gaze. she sighed, must you continue this dolor on my home?the sleuth …
petrichor
the detective doffs his hat,observes the petrichor rich in the air -the window’s left open, careless,it rained last night, a real deluge,someone tells him.he slips into a state of accismus,observes the patterns of the uxoricideto which he was called and askedto solve.some overlord’s hand at work, he thinks,builds a profile,watches for someone to confecttheir story.
vulnerable
she collects pebblesuntil her hands are stiff. her fingerscramp up from inspecting themand her skirt pocket tears awayunder the weight. at home she tucks theminto corners, glues themin place. triesnot to breathe in the fumes. the leather satchel is torn,strips of material peeling awayin placesand she kicks it under the desk. home is familiar,with its …
vanished
the glass acts as a type of portal, separating ancestress from descendant. it's been passed down over the centuries, held onto for dear life and handed down when the call came. the story is that the first one to live out the myth managed to enchant it in her last mortal act, and now the …
the hideout
for the first five years she tries to build herself a hideout, tries to hollow out space in a tree for a shed to hide; tries to slip into the depths of the forest and blend into the scenery. none of it ever works, she never feels quite right in the hidey-spaces she's stealing from …
crescendo
she's watchful of the night sky, waiting for it to arrive before she slips out under a cloak of her own making. outside, the city hums, content with the work from the rest of the day, and people are few and far between. tonight she's tempted to take a glass to the roof, fill it …
wonderland
Flash Fiction July, 30 There's a forest tucked away on the outskirts of the city. She doesn't go there often; only in winter, when it frosts over and she has to wear thick-soled hiking boots lined with extra socks and haphazardly-stitched in knitted linings. She pretends it's for the sheer beauty of the place, but it's …
unwinding
she unwinds from the daythe moment she walksin the door. shoes are kicked off andlain on the rack;keys, deposited in a bowl by thedoor and bags droppedunder the table. the stiff blazer is droppedover the back of a chairas she walks in sock-feet tothe lounge. swaps suits for worn-outcottonand tugs a blanket off theback of …
wanderlost
she flicks the mapthat takes up one-third ofwall space.on her desk, there's aspinning globe: sometimesshe taps it to set it rotating. unfocuses her eyes and lets the worldblur past. she makes a list,writing alphabetically,reverse-alphabeticallyand flips it around again. scrambles the order, calls uponline travel literature. in the evening shecrams in language, makesflashcards of grammar. she'll go …
the cave
a cave formsin the forest.sometimes, in her modest moodsshe calls it a backyardbut miles offlora isn't a yard. she takes a backpack andlaces up hiking shoes.if she walks too fastthey clip at her anklebone.sometimes, the bruiseslast for days. if the weather permitsshe reaches the cave,half-formed though it is.when she first came hereit didn't existand she …
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