Flashbacks for 2012

Each year’s Hot Flashes–between 2002 and 2007, at any rate–has a Cafe Press store. Visit the Shop link on this web site to find out more.

January

New Leaf

We’re going to start fresh. He deleted his lawyer’s number.

I deleted Mr. X’s.

Funny that they call it a “kill fee” when you tell them NOT to.

February

Answering Machine

I’m not here to answer your call right now.

Leave your name and number and, if you’re a psychic, I’ll get back to you.

March

Bucket List

He always wanted to go paragliding so, for his birthday, I took him up a cliff and off he went!

Some say I should have let him put on his gear before I pushed him.

April

Dead End

An ax, a chainsaw, an hour’s work and a good clean-up afterwards, red washing down the drain.

“That,” he says, “is how you get a cedar stump out of clay.”

May

Maypole

Gran considers my question as she spins.

“Children can’t dance around the Maypole because it makes you with child. Folks dance, go off, and next you know–babies!”

Gran knows everything. But sometimes she laughs for no reason.

June

Bridezilla

Barbie lies discarded in a box. The dinosaurs are marrying the ponies and driving off in cars.

My child. Is “unique” the word I’m looking for?

July

Reflection

The face in the water is my face reversed. Handsome, young, well-groomed. So why did she pick him over me?

He stopped struggling ten minutes ago. I release him and let my twin drift away.

August

Summer Heat

I might as well forgive him. It’s so hot, my voodoo doll is melting.

September

The Oak’s Farewell

They say we don’t really die in the fall when our leaves drop and our sap recedes. They say we come back in the spring. But you’re never the same tree twice. Goodbye. Goodbye.

October

Halloween Haiku

Dark highlights brightness–
A black bat flickers across
The face of the moon.

November

Bare Bones Landscape

“Skeletal,” he says, loving his own voice. “The leafless trees are skeletal.”

“Not yet,” I say, drawing my knife across his throat. I shove the body into the sinkhole nearby. “But soon.”

December

Paradise

The fresh-fallen snow sparkles like a billion billion stars. I thought I would be cold without my coat, but I’m warm as toast. When they come home, they can follow my footprints to heaven.

Go to the Flashbacks link for all years’ Hot Flashes.

About

I was born in Louisville, Kentucky, but now live in the woods in southern Indiana. Though I only write fiction, I love to read non-fiction. The more I learn about this world, the more fantastic I see it is.

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