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Send in the Barbarians
November 15, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, novels, Poetry, reading, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Empire, Philosophy | by davidbdale | 4 comments
So enormous was the empire that a great wall was built to contain the indifferent citizens more enamored of regular meals than loyal to the emperor, Read the rest of this entry »
New World Order
November 13, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, novels, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Business, Child, Father, Office, Son, Work | by davidbdale | 4 comments
I took my son to work today and they gave him my job. He looked so earnest in his Bullwinkle tie: regional vice-presidential, in fact, apparently. Stakeholder-inspiring, they called him, a paradigm shift in leaderliness. Read the rest of this entry »
Booklikemarks
November 12, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, novels, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Abandon, Art, Book, Loss, Love, Separation | by davidbdale | 3 comments
Thin strips of card stock, a suicide king: bookmarks all. Metaphors for my placeholder finger, they separate the pages I have read from those I may never read. Read the rest of this entry »
Decorum
November 9, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, novels, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Death, Destiny, Eulogy, Funeral, Grief, Loss, Madness, Scream, Trauma | by davidbdale | 6 comments
All I wanted when he died was to scream. My family restrained me, taking me by the arms near the shoulders, and either slamming me to the wall of the trauma room or forcing my nose into the stink, as if I were responsible, Read the rest of this entry »
The Childhood He Never Had
November 8, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, novels, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Abuse, Child, Childhood, Forgive, Memory, Regret, Son, Therapy | by davidbdale | 3 comments
At 26, with the assistance of a team of psychological facilitators spending down a healthy post-doctoral research grant, he began to retrieve repressed memories of abuse he had suffered as a child Read the rest of this entry »
The View from Mars
November 6, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, novels, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Genie, Love, Marriage, Possession, Separation, Wife | by davidbdale | 9 comments
When the genie offers me my wishes, I’ll wish to wake up miserable but go to sleep happy. Every day like a life compressed will be an adventure of discovery and fulfillment. Read the rest of this entry »
Similar Ducks
November 2, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, novels, Poetry, reading, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Charity, Conscience, Danger, Dog, Generosity, Regret | by davidbdale | 10 comments
I had been seeing her, always at the same place, muttering to the same or similar ducks, for weeks before I ventured to speak to her. If I had not had crackers in my pocket I would never have begun our little commerce with an offer of food, Read the rest of this entry »
Open Closure
October 30, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Breakup, Closure, Drinking, Loss, Separation | by davidbdale | 6 comments
Already the breaking up has lasted longer than the relationship and provided her more pleasure. Another week of breaking up and this will be her longest relationship yet. Read the rest of this entry »
Stand and Burn
October 26, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Breath, Cry, Fire, Forget, Laugh, Memory, Mother, Panic | by davidbdale | 5 comments
My mother draws her breath like a bad cartoon. No doctors can tell us what’s wrong with her, so we don’t let them see her. She was always busy living, proliferating. Read the rest of this entry »
Eat the Air
October 24, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Book, Dystopia, History, Holocaust, Memory, Rabbi, Song, War | by davidbdale | 6 comments
The rabbi is on radio, telling the story every generation tells about itself. It was war, he says, and the papers didn’t reach our little town. Read the rest of this entry »
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