Last week, I started my first serial flash fiction story about a thirty-something single woman named Dee. If you missed it, read Chapter 1 here --------------- 2. A Beacon for the Metaphorical Penis Beacon might have been the wrong word. A magnet was what Dee considered herself, but men of the wrong kind were an …
Category: Flash Fiction
I’m trying something new…
Serial Flash Fiction. See, I got this idea over the weekend. And the content isn't something I want to write a book about but I like the idea of a romantic-comedy-type story about a woman who thinks she is a magnet for the wrong type of man. Yeah, totally been done before, but not by …
Flash Fiction: Walking
I was alone on my side of a padded booth plucking a curly fry from the paper container when Jake sat down across from me, still wearing his work clothes. “Hey, that looks good.” He said, smiling as he stole a fry. “You started without me?” “You were late and I'm a slow eater.” Last …
Epiphany
Here is a deleted snippet of a scene from Between Octobers. Grace is experiencing a moment of clarity. **Keep in mind, this portion was just pulled from one of my many files of deleted materials and has not been professionally edited.** Epiphany “It is just pivoting.” As I say it out loud I know by …
The Baby Sitter
With little more than a month left before my book, Between Octobers, is released I thought I could give everyone a little teaser! This is a scene from Evans point of view. So, this was never going to be in Octobers, but it's a cute tidbit that gives you an idea of who Rhys Matthews …
Rubber-Made
I"m rubber. You're glue. Whatever bounces off me, sticks on you!" I remember hearing that a lot when I was a kid. I believe I even said it a time or three. These last few years, I have come to realize, that it is true. Example: I am the youngest of four children. My mother …
Flash Fiction: Bread Line
“Could you get another one?” She held up the loaf of bargain priced sandwich bread, voice calm, eyes flickering. The clerk at the register, who’d just finished bagging the groceries, scrunched his brows together. “Ma’am, is there something wrong with the bread?” The woman was barely a day over twenty-two and wasn’t used to being …
A Moment
It was a swarm. A barrage of flashing lights. A storm that obeys no pattern, only a will to seek and deconstruct. It sweeps in, surrounding me. Like ants to a piece of candy, I am consumed bit by bit. Someone must have called someone from the plane. I walked as quickly as I could, kept my hat …
A.R. Rivera 
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