In the city, I used to look for it, and so I got by. The copse of trees at the end of a forgotten street. The cultivated flower gardens around the golf course. The tiny patch of grass that lived beside the parking lot outside my apartment window. Nature lived there. And when I lookedContinue reading “Coyote On The Highway”
Tag Archives: flash fiction
Hello, Lupin
When you take a prairie girl to the mountains, her eyes will grow wide. The beauty is big. You don’t have to look for it. Her breath will catch at every corner, every tree, every snow-summit. Yet when you take a mountain man to the prairie, his eyes will dim. Big sky, big land, butContinue reading “Hello, Lupin”
The List
“If you won’t smile, I’ll take you out back behind the autobarn and make you smile.”
It is 8AM. I’m at my desk and Wes the mechanic is just walking by with his coffee. I stare hard at the screen, checking emails.
Where She Goes
Her hands are older now, and there are clay stains up to her elbows. She watches the little grey teapot spin and spin on her wheel, the sun shining gently through the window of her kiln-room and onto her lap. Her brow is furrowed, but there is no aggravation there anymore. All that’s long gone.Continue reading “Where She Goes”
Tearing Holes in the Tapestry
Some lives are meant only to tear holes in the tapestry. Yet someone once told me that the world is also full of menders, gently pulling broken threads back into place. And though there are times when I can only see the holes, there are others times when I can see them: The Menders, quietlyContinue reading “Tearing Holes in the Tapestry”
Jessica Barratt 