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Trolley Problems
March 15, 2007 in 299 Words, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, reading, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: language, Logic, Philosophy, Rhetoric, Romance | by davidbdale | 4 comments
A runaway trolley is racing downhill. If I hurry to the switch, I can divert the trolley to another track, that is, if I understand switches. Sunlight crinkles on the storefront windows, Read the rest of this entry »
Knife in the Bed
March 8, 2007 in 299 Words, Crime, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, novels, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Art, Book, Literature, Philosophy, Terror, Threat, Violation, Words | by davidbdale | 14 comments
We can’t just weep on paper and call it Book of Tears. We can’t just stab the book and call it Rage, but certain stories are more physical fact than art. Read the rest of this entry »
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 »
Not Quite Kiss
October 24, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Bed, Gaze, Kiss, Laugh, Moment, Philosophy, Rapture, Transcend | by davidbdale | 4 comments
My coffee cup is a moment of stillness so unlike the headlong hurtling present. Painted Japanese characters dangle from its rim like icicles from a timeline. I don’t know what they mean. Read the rest of this entry »
Light The Stars
October 5, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Destiny, Love, Marriage, Philosophy, Wisdom, World | by davidbdale | 14 comments
In slanting sunlight, we find ourselves amidst porch furniture, in the pregnant hour of a marriage as familiar as the air, thoughtless, lightly rocking the globe from its orbit with every shift of our chairs. Read the rest of this entry »
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