The gulls screech and scold each other as our clan compiles, waiting for the worst. Barnacles against a rising tide, and what do we do when the rock is gone?
Tag Archives: Prose
Yet More #30Words30Days
She’s got a hoar-frost vibe and a forced smile that feels like sleet driven horizontally by an east wind. You might be the guest, but she didn’t extend the invitation.
30 Words, 30 Days
Perfection’s her identity, polished until she shines. No flaws, no misplaced hair. Benevolence. Gloss. Diligence. If ever she let the veil recede, fleetingly, oh—
The torrent would sweep her away.
A Cheat’s Post
AlyWrites is on a hiatus of sorts this week. Working three jobs in an already busy season is not conducive to doing much writing. Instead of a brilliant new piece of flash, I offer my dear readers four tiny stories in 30 words. In a delightful Twitter challenge from Sumitra, a super talented writer IContinue reading “A Cheat’s Post”
How to Revise Flash Fiction
With so much packed into so few words, every word has to earn its place. Somehow the piece has to move, needs to have conflict and shape and feeling.
Guests in the Night
The edge of my bed is digging into the back of my thighs, and my neck aches where it meets my slouching shoulders. I deflate with a sigh. Defeat lowers himself down onto my rounded back and settles in, making his bulk comfortable. He’s heavy.
Love is Just One Side of a Two-Faced Coin
Midweek, we’d steal moments between classes, adjourning to his office, door bolted, to debrief each other. We came close to getting caught more times than I can count, but people didn’t want to see what they didn’t want to see and so we carried on.
The botched pursuit of a mate by adult males of the order Lepidoptera
It’s 2:00 am, and I’m bent over the sink, sucking mango off the stone, juice running down my forearms and dripping onto yesterday’s dirty dishes. Seventy-two moth carcasses fill the garbage can in their crumpled Kleenex shrouds.
While Some Throw Rocks at the Object of Their Fear
At her touch the raspy scales constricted and coiled, tensed into an anxious lowercase e. She gently slid her fingers under until the coil lay in her palm.
2022: A Retrospective
Distraction abounded this year, and I feel the need to remind myself of some of the things I can be proud of, hiding amongst the weeds.
Aly Writes 