by Al McDermid
| Listen to Al read his flash Title of flash from week # |  |
| Audio file goes here |
| Story goes here |
| Bio of Author here |
twentysix
52|250's 2nd Quarter Review
52|250 A Year of Flash
The best of . . .
- Week #14 – I can’t wait
- Week #15 – Sleep
- Week #16 – Busy at work
- Week #17 – We are not responsible
- Week #18 – Lucky number
- Week #19 – The last time
- Week #20 – Rivals
- Week #21 – Unseen
- Week #22 – The brutality of friends
- Week #23 – Long lines
- Week #24 – Tombstones
- Week #25 – Least favorite
- Week #26 – Bad haircut
In their own words and voices
All about flash
From outer space to the deep blue sea
Editors’ closet
And here we give . . .
twentysix random sparks
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“This family moved to the city after the war, and we’ve hung on like ticks on a dog’s ass ever since,” his father would say. “Someday, one of us is going to explode. You’ll see.”
- K. Grotke |
| Sleep, when it comes, comes in a rush like an orgasm. You’re not sleeping-you’re inside your head, thinking, tracing the action in the room with your ears, then suddenly you’re gone. - M. Webb |
| Upon the horrifying discovery that the citizens’ needs were met and their appetites sated, the regime moved quickly to avert a moral crisis. - B. Heise |
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The nun sitting across from them clutches her iPod like a crucifix and lowers the volume of her soundboard bootlegged Melissa Etheridge to better eavesdrop.
- S. Stucko |
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I read that hyenas come out of the womb already fighting. In that sentiment I recognised you. - R. Lawson |
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He worried that someone would look up from the honking streets, maybe some crazy kid. The kid might see the white dazzle of his shirt, might scream. - H. Taylor |
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He stood, stuffed the beep-boop twinkle stick into his breast pocket and headed back to the Impossible Blue Box, whistling an Arcturian pop tune that wouldn’t be written for another eleven centuries.
- T. Allman |
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Are you there? It’s been so long since I had someone to talk to. Besides Oscar and Wilde, I mean.
- F. Rasky |
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I dearly want to reject Darwin.
- A. McDermid |
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That is our bargain – a lifetime détente in exchange for a feast – although I had never been consulted. It’s an ancient marriage made by some outer space yenta.
- R. Houle |
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Hello ghosts. I’m not ready yet to become
part of your toothless frothing group but I
thank you for the bubbling foamy offer. - D. Price |
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Four feet is all a shark needs. - A. Lockwood |
| It started with other things—snow globes smashed through windows, dead birds tucked behind the chocolate milk—but it was her hair the rest of the world noticed. - L. Kuntz |
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The wind tricks the lock shut. The hourglass is turned. Your feet touch together and you hold them - D. Bond |
| her body
in general reminded him of sacks of damp fodder left in a field
- S. Power-Chopra |
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each sends sound waves that ripple across the interminable unfoldings of the apparent dissonance of an earthquake in winter - S. Hastings-King |
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I should have learned to be patient in my loneliness, still enough to watch a rosebud bloom - S. L. Compton |
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He pictures their heads and bodies exploding, the blood spilling into the water, or maybe diluting the soft sand - A. Nair |
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Their children are borne from small stones that lay atop a dusty hill - M. Hamilton |
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You can’t believe the dirty girls we get here for head shots - S. Tepper |
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just breathe, until the only noise is my pulse thumping through my brain and all I see are smoky-white trails of spent fireworks echoing against my closed eyelids - L. Simoni-Wastila |
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It meant she could slip outside when the insomnia got to her, curl up in the driver’s seat, and smell his last remaining trace - E. K. Switaj |
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I’d like to say we didn’t remember the Alamo, but one of ours had to piss - R. Collins |
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I could see a glimpse of admiration in her eyes: the men in her future would have to be able to moo just like that - M. Speh |
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It spreads itself across the back of my head. I’m ready to pull off a piece of my skull to get to it - A. McDermid |
| She had been warned. On first glance, this species seemed like another average task: anthropoid, medium-brained, clueless about any realm beyond the third dimension - D. Lang |
twentysix 