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Shapes in the Blue
February 5, 2008 in 299 Words, Art, Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Life, Love, Memory, Monologue, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Age, Fear, Hospital, Loss, Love, Lovers, Marriage, Memory | by davidbdale | 6 comments
We were twelve and stupid, American kids living in America, lying on our backs at recess. You like that? We lay on our backs side by side in the sun, in the grass, full of youth, looking for shapes in the clouds. Read the rest of this entry »
Movie Night
December 31, 2007 in 299 Words, Cinema, Disability, Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Memory, novels, Nursing Home, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels | Tags: Abuse, Age, Family, Fear, Hospital, Loss, Memory, Regret | by davidbdale | 3 comments
The room is dark and smells of disinfected pee with a hint of vanilla. Eleanor Barney must be here. Most of us have been wheeled into places and parked facing the screen but younger people with red ears are crowded onto folding chairs, noisy with outdoor talk, coats in their laps. Read the rest of this entry »
Alphabet Soup
November 10, 2007 in 299 Words, Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Memory, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels | Tags: Age, Fear, Loss, Memory, Mother, Son | by davidbdale | 9 comments
I don’t know this man across the table but if we’re dating, I’m a reasonably lucky woman, depending on my age, my looks. I don’t know much. A plate of eggs and bacon before him, scrambled soft, I believe they call it and nearby, toast in uneven stacks, so the meal is underway. Is this breakfast? Read the rest of this entry »
Little Red Stickers
March 1, 2007 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, novels, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Age, Father, Grief, Self, Sly | by davidbdale | 12 comments
Fifty-five years of job reversals and mortgage payments all come down to this: a slow trickle of bargain hunters with their Penny-Savers, picking through a houseful of used furniture priced to move, each piece tagged with a little red sticker like a drop of blood with numbers penciled in, Read the rest of this entry »
Carry the Zero
December 11, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, novels, Poetry, reading, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Age, Daughter, Forget, Loss, Memory | by davidbdale | 5 comments
Sometimes it seems inconceivable I should be the age I am. When sunlight through the atrium bakes us in the common room like tacos under a heat lamp, I stop counting the days I do remember and consider this scene before me. Read the rest of this entry »
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