Miramichi Flash showcases four outstanding flash fiction: “Piece of My Heart” by Mitchell Toews, “The Glory Tree” by Sandra Arnold, “Photographic Memory” by Nadia Jacobson and “Within and Without” by Swailes in its February 2022 Issue, today. — Enjoy!
“Piece of My Heart by Mitchell Toews
On a still fall day, I walk through the woods near the river. My knee is behaving and I work up a sweat under my Mackinaw. I come across an old campsite. A rusted stove—white enamel peeling. Tin cans in a pile. There is a blackened jackknife folded and set with care on a cushion of moss.
“THE GLORY TREE” BY SANDRA ARNOLD
Emily arrived at the house as the sun rolled above the roofline, painting the drab weatherboards lemon, turning the last leaves of the Glory Tree gold. That was her name for the kowhai her father planted when she was born. In later years she used to lie beneath its branches pretending she was a princess waiting for a handsome prince to wake her with a kiss. Forty years on she no longer believed in the transformative power of princes, though twelve years with Hamish certainly woke her up to a few things.
“PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY” BY NADIA JACOBSON
The old man’s eyes lit up as the young man entered the living room.
“Lovely to see you again,” the old man said. “Weren’t you here just the other day?”
“Yes,” the young man said, his chest tightening.
“WITHIN AND WITHOUT” BY CHARLIE SWAILES
Although the sun shone the day they took me to the hospital to have my wings removed, there were rumblings of a large storm brewing in the west. The doctor hmm-ed and ahh-ed and pursed his lips. Stepping back, he unfurled my left wing with clinical roughness, his fingers tracing each ligament with an unsettling intimacy. He talked about the number of cases this year versus last year, how many surgeries he had performed that month alone, how at thirteen I was older than his typical patient. Taking a fat black pen, he drew dotted lines on my back around the joints that held my wings in place; the cold ink lay thickly on my pallid skin.
