A double issue! Feast your eyes on this blockbuster year-end Issue of ‘Miramichi Flash’! Showcasing stellar #flashfiction: “Hurricane Girl” by Andrea Disario Marcusa, “Grinding Teeth” by Louella Lester, “Dept. of Imagination” by Phebe Jewell, “Irma Likes Her Blessing Elaine Likes Her Humpty” by Paul Beckman, “Memories of a Gun” by Diane Payne, “Transients” by Dave Alcock, “A Piece of Pencil Lead” by Niles Reddick, and “Hollows” by Tommy Dean. Enjoy!
“HURRICANE GIRL” BY ANDREA MARCUSA
You remember the hurricane barreling toward the Connecticut coast when you were eight. And the rain pouring down the gutters, slamming the screens so you had to close all the windows. You remember the news updates, sirens at noon, and how the rain stopped, a muggy mist descended, and a quiet settled as the storm surge rose and pushed up the lower streets, climbed the hill and flooded your road. How glad you were that your house stood high on a hill, because all around you was water.
“GRINDING TEETH” BY LOUELLA LESTER
Jay wasn’t a distraction at all. I wasn’t able to see him through the classroom door if I bent to the right angle. He didn’t pretend he didn’t see me. I didn’t sit up straight pushing my chest forward. He didn’t have thick black hair that shone blue despite the florescent lights.
“DEPT. OF IMAGINATION” BY PHEBE JEWELL
“Don’t tell your father,” Mom would say, folding a lottery ticket and slipping it into her purse. Poor people’s tax, Dad scoffed every time he spotted the Washington State Lottery’s “Dept. of Imagination” logo. He never bought a ticket, but Mom stopped by the counter under the four-leaf-clover banner when it was just the two of us.
“IRMA LIKES HER BLESSINGS ELAINE LIKES HER HUMPTY” BY PAUL BECKMAN
My friend Irma says everything’s a blessing: “I’m sorry about your cat but it’s probably a blessing in disguise.” “Your wallet—well with that horrid picture of you on your license you should count it as a blessing.” “You burned the cake while talking to me on the phone? You don’t need the calories—it’s a blessing.”
“MEMORIES OF A GUN” BY DIANE PAYNE
- My sister and I were reminiscing about the shithole days when Dad picked up a knife and threatened to stab all of us at the dinner table, and, when playing a board game, he picked up a gun, and pushed it against our heads.
“TRANSIENTS” BY DAVE ALCOCK
As usual, he’d collected her from the station and they were driving through the countryside on their way to the coast.
“I’m leaving,” she said.
He glanced at her. “Okay. Let’s make the most of today.”
“A PIECE OF PENCIL LEAD” BY NILES REDDICK
There’s a piece of pencil lead in my arm. It’s not really lead but graphite. If you glance quickly, you’d assume it was another freckle.
“HOLLOWS” BY TOMMY DEAN
We’re lying in the middle of a cracked country road, fireflies blinking a message we’re too human to understand. The gravel is hot on my shoulders, the sweat gathering and pasting the grit from the tarmac on my elbows and calves. My chest heaves from chasing you earlier, my throat raw from yelling your name. One look at the way your shoes are planted on the sticky surface of the road, your knees bent toward the sky, and I know this isn’t a joke. You’re too selfish, to heart-bent on possessing Jody like the Michael Jordan rookie card that you swear your dad bought you, but you’ve never let me see.