what is flash fiction?
“…is a fictional work of extreme brevity that still offers character and plot development, many of them defined by word count.”
my flash fictions are inspired by Lydia Davis’s Five Stories LydiaDavis.
A Tiny Town
Tiny Figures root in a tiny town. The Tiny Town is located in a tiny world. The Tiny World floats on the Mississippi River. Tiny Figures hide during the day but celebrate at night. The Tiny World breaks down during the day but unites at night. The mayor, Mr. Hey—dumbbell-body shape, sparse beard, and distorted ears—knows everything outside this town. No one outside this town escapes from his wicked eagle eyes. Those eyes are the only normal part of him. “Not on my watch,” his slogan is popular enough that newborns know how to hum. At night, he would run into the tiny wood and shout David Lynch, I’m coming for you! My hunch is, tiny figures in the tiny town in the tiny world floating on the Mississippi River meditate too much.
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Carol
There’s a side to you that I never knew. Let it burn, let it cry, let it go. Because it’s good not to be good enough, just so you know, I’ve been good. Autumn’s present. Winter’s coming. Nails polished. Mood changed. Never been better. And call me Carol.
Bipolar Harmony
Driving from Little Italy to Tiananmen Square, storms explode in my brain. Decorative lights dangling in the celestial sphere, and I’m driving in agony. Don’t know what to think, almost speechless. Spotted mind in spotless clouds. Red eyes on a green canvas. Countries are too heavy to keep in mind. A group of rocks sprints toward each other like moths to the flame. Must conflicts exist? Seems so. They were pieces of cotton in the beginning, but a group of alchemists did a little Abracadabra to them. The alchemists were throwing a little party for a groundbreaking discovery, but never have they ever thought about the side-effects of the Abracadabra. So cotton turned into rocks with minds that gave birth to me who’s driving through a hurricane to a party to celebrate my baby niece. I want to celebrate conflicts as much as I do celebrations.
Lover
So long, Jimmy. Thought it could be a name of a song, but it is not.
So long, James. Thought this was an official farewell to James, perhaps.
So long, Jack. Thought this was a mistake. Yes, it was.
So long, Jay. Thought he is Jasper, luckily he is not.