Sufferer’s Digest Flash: I cling to Jim, our fingers curled together like kelp ribbons. Holding a stranger’s hand is uncomfortably intimate.  Continue reading

Third Wednesday: Apparently, you were humiliated by my vintage Chanel dress. I’d missed the memo that your company Christmas party dress code was uninspired fast-fashion bodycon minis and two-thousand-dollar hair extensions. Continue reading

Wild Greens: Her frustrated growl breaks my heart. She slams me onto the oak writing desk; the bounce reverberates through my 0.7mm tip. A drop of indigo gel blooms across her unfinished sentence like a fresh bruise.  Continue reading

101 Words: Your angry boots close in like thunder. This hike was for my birthday. The obligation enraged you. Continue reading

Vine Leaves Press – The 50 Word Stories of 2024: Mother of the Bride My eldest daughter says, ‘I do’. I’m transported to my own wedding day– through thirty years of passion, angry words, cross-country moves, complacency, babies, temptation, hurt… Continue reading

Nunum’s Done in a Hundred Anthology: My white knuckles grip the safety bar. Heights, speed, lack of control– things I avoid at all costs. I connect the video call, phone shaking. His gaunt, beautiful face calms my nerves.  “I knew… Continue reading

NYCM 100 Micro Winner 2024: My starter bubbles—strong, alive. I knead the dough, loose and sticky, clinging to my hands. I almost give up before the gluten finally activates, pulling the mess together.  Continue reading

Scribes Prize Honourable Mention: https://www.fairfieldscribes.com/issue-46.html Ben’s yellow emoji sticks out among the red hearts and love eyes—a sore-loser’s thumb. We were a Molotov cocktail. Forever holding matches to already scorched skin, craving the relief of explosion. Intoxicated by the ride.… Continue reading

101 Words: Mom and Dad giggled and gave me a whipped cream moustache while making pancakes this morning. They were not arguing and my stomach didn’t ache. I ate three. Now we’re at Gino’s Pizza. My favourite. They get me… Continue reading

Fairfield Scribes: https://www.fairfieldscribes.com/issue-43.html My twitching fingers slide roe onto the sharpened hook, blood blooms on my pierced thumb. In one smooth motion, I propel the filament across the water into the churning river shallows. The drift in this spot is… Continue reading

101 Words: I was the life of the party, back when life had parties. I danced on tables, tossed back my teased head—too-loud laughter mixing with vodka cocktails spilled on the floor. My signature move was The Flaming Sambuca. I became… Continue reading