flash fiction – Jessica Barratt

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”

Sometimes I Disappear

close up of the dividing lines on a highway

I’ll watch a bird, and a week goes by. I’ll bask in the sun and find a month already gone. But I’ve always been here; it’s time that’s tricky. It’s time that spins past, so fast I can’t see. It’s time that moves, while I’m standing still. Then I look to my parents’ faces. IContinue reading “Sometimes I Disappear”

The Boy in the Water

A man stands at the water, the boy in his reflection lapping waves at his feet. But the man does not look down…

Soup’s On

We tell our truest stories when soup’s on. When the bay leaves do their thing (whatever it is), we reach into our deepest pockets and empty them all the way out. We’ve had enough time to stew, and so has the soup. It’s the warmth of it all, probably. And the waiting, because the longerContinue reading “Soup’s On”