Friday, July 30, 2010

Not Flash Fiction

...and then a woman abandons her car in the middle of the Arizona desert and starts walking along the road in heels and a tight sleeveless blue dress and big sunglasses and she smokes a cigarette and in her handbag with the cigarettes and lighter there's something else, something dangerous, though not necessarily a gun, and there's someone waiting for her to show up with the car somewhere, maybe in Phoenix or maybe elsewhere, but she's not ever going to show up even though there's nothing wrong with the car, she just didn't want to drive anymore and she didn't want to meet whoever is waiting for her (it's some man, of course); she's just going to walk and she doesn't want anyone to stop and offer her a ride though men will, of course, because she's pretty and she's wearing that blue dress which is silvery gray when the sun hits it just right and she has good legs and is wearing those heels and all...

6 comments:

  1. ...or a very long descriptive phrase...

    I like her. She knows her mind.

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  2. Not Flash Fiction, or not, she makes for an interesting (read: kickass) character.

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  3. I absolutely love the flow and description in this!

    To me, that is called a run-on. I love them. I wrote about 80 of them in college. Here's a fun one:

    This is not Sharon Olds

    in the afternoon with the sun on our backs, a turkey sandwich and divinity, i cannot learn to love that taste, the sweetness on my tongue that nearly hurts my teeth like a lie, like a confession on my couch and i must leave until the night he is holding your hand in the street under trees, i thought that point hadn’t been reached, like when i bite into olives and feel the pit past the sour past the bitter past the salty softness at the back of my throat when he holds your hand again and you smile and glance at my face and my hands are filled with olives when i am not the only one who notices you and your fingers, the too-sweet sugar of his skin against yours against lips against hands against eyes, your senses so close you cannot see the mountain of pits on a napkin in my lap, i’ll eat the whole bowl before the night is through.

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  4. Tara: Yeah, poetry, that's the ticket! Actually, it's part of a paragraph of extemporaneous brainstorming from a letter I wrote to Davin. Maybe someday I'll actually write a story about that woman.

    Anne & Crimey: It's funny you both have positive opinions about this character from such a sketchy...sketch.

    Michelle: I like yours, but you cheat by having a beginning, middle and end! "the too-sweet sugar of his skin" is good.

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  5. Oh, I cheated? Haha. Okay. I should do something that is right in the middle one day. Or it might drive me nuts.

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