A found photograph with a dark, possibly evil story typed on it with my Brother Charger 11.
This and many other prints can be purchased now at my ETSY! Check it out!
The Cliff’s Edge
Posted in flash fiction, photos of strangers, Typography
Tagged Alfred Hitchcock, art, couples, dark, Edward Gorey, fiction, flash fiction, found art, found photo, friendship, life, love, murder, noir, photograph, photography, romance, Tim Burton, typography, writing
It’s a Day at the Beach
Photograph purchased at a yard sale, story typed on a Brother Charger 11.
This original print, along with many others, is now for sale on my Etsy!
Posted in flash fiction, Typography
Tagged Atlantic City, beach, family, humor, jersey shore, life, love, photo, photography, shore, smiles, smiling, sun, wildwood
A Sporadic Trip Around the World
“I want to take a trip around the world.”
Illana looked up at Maura to gauge the sincerity of her comment. “Yeah?”
“Yes. Now.”
Illana left her homework and walked over to the bed where Maura lay on her stomach ignoring the text she was assigned.
“You’re one-hundred percent sure?” Maura nodded. “Then get dressed.”
As Maura put on her favorite tee shirt they’d bought because they thought the image looked like Joan Crawford, Illana pulled out an old plaid suitcase, a treasure found at an estate sale a few months back. She opened it and began placing random clothing into it as her friend pulled a skirt up over her black leggings. Once assembled, Maura stepped up to the suitcase, motioning to Illana that it was her turn to get ready.
Pulling out a pair of flower-print shorts and holding them up to a mirror against her leggings, Illana remembered something important and said, “Don’t forget Marilyn. And Old Yellow.” Maura nodded in agreement and grabbed the large framed photograph and a beat up toy car, stuffing them into the vintage case with the clothing.
Illana joined her by the suitcase and they each took a clamp and shut it.
“Let’s go,” Maura said, Illana grabbing the suitcase and following close behind.
***
Illana and Maura waited alongside Paddua Road, a desolate and unused trucking road that ended at a collapsed bridge about three miles towards the mountains. They watched, waiting for an unlikely vehicle.
“I want to see Paris,” Illana said as she propped up the photograph against the suitcase and plopped down in the grass next to the asphalt.
“So generic,” Maura responded. “But yes, we must. And Madrid.”
“Rome.”
“Prague.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
Maura shielded her eyes from the sun, looking down the empty road. “Nobody’s coming. I want to change my shirt.”
“So change it. There isn’t a house for miles.”
Maura removed the Joan Crawford-like shirt and replaced it with a gray tee,
pulling the long sleeves up to her elbows. She looked down the road again, then started slowly crossing it towards the open field across from them. Illana laid down in the middle of the road and watched her go for a moment before getting up, and grabbing their belongings and heading for the same field.
She joined Maura, who was now sitting amongst the grass and dandelion wishes. Illana plucked one of the nearby flowers and blew on it so that parachutes fluttered in the air, putting on a private dance just for the two teenagers.
“Think we’ll ever actually see the world?”
“Of course we will. Don’t be silly. As soon as we’re eighteen. Summer after we graduate. It’ll happen.”
Maura reached over to the suitcase and opened it, removing the small beat up vehicle they’d found while exploring an abandoned home last summer. She ran her fingers across the writing on the door that said “Kreuzer – Ball Pen Stylo” and then spun one of the wheels. She looked over at Illana, who was laying on her back with her feet in the air. She gently balanced the toy onto Illana’s feet.
“See how long you can keep it there.”
After a few minutes of a quiet breeze and perfect balance, Maura reached over and tickled Illana, making the car roll off her feet and into a particularly large pack of the white dandelions. The car disturbed enough of the flowers to break a large amount of them, and the wind picked up the petals and blew them towards the girls, making a summer snowfall of wishes surround them.
“Make a wish,” Illana told Maura.
“I already did.”
Maura got up and picked up the suitcase.
“Let’s go home.”
Photographs by Laura and Manon of Nonsense of the Truth
Please stop by their AMAZING blog and check out how talented they are!
Posted in flash fiction, photos of strangers
Tagged art, Belgium, best friends, fiction, flash fiction, friendship, hipster, life, love, marilyn monroe, nonsense of the truth, nonsenseofthetruth, photo, photography, teenagers, teens, world travel
Verisimilitude
She and I were sitting each on one side of a statue on a park bench.
“What?” I asked her.
“Weren’t you listening to me?”
“Honestly, no. I am completely taken in by the verisimilitude of this statue. It looks so real.” I could not stop staring.
Her attention went from me (and anger) to the statue, one of a man in a suit styled from the 1960s, including a hat.
“Wow, you’re right. It looks so real. Lifelike.”
“If I didn’t know better, I would swear it was real,” I said.
She looked at it as if waiting for it to blink. It did not.
“Waiting for it to blink?” I asked with a laugh.
“No,” she said, a certain amount of defense in her voice.
“So what were you saying?” I asked around the statue towards the front. She looked behind the statue as if we were in some Abbott and Costello routine.
“Huh?”
“What?”
“What?”
“Who’s on first?” I asked.
“Shut up.”
“Meet me in front of the statue,” I called to her.
She did so.
“What were you saying?”
“I was saying…”
“You forgot?”
“Shut up.”
Her eyes turned back towards the statue. She started staring at it.
“Certainly does look real. Excellent craftsmanship, whoever made it.”
“Agreed,” I said.
At that the statue sneezed.
“Bless you.”
The word verisimilitude was suggested by Kate.
Posted in flash fiction, Inspired by a word...
Tagged bench, city, fiction, flash fiction, humor, life, love, statue, verisimilitude
Sunglasses and Rubber Boots
I sat on the park bench reading, and she came up and sat next to me. I probably wouldn’t have noticed her if it were not for the rubber boots shooting into my peripheral view as I looked down at the novel.
They were bright blue, but that wasn’t what attracted my attention. I looked up at the shining sun and had to shield my eyes from it, even with my dark sunglasses on. It was a scorcher, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
I looked over at her and smiled, she smiled back, but I couldn’t see her eyes through her dark aviators. She looked to be about twenty, wore a bright white and blue print dress and had nice legs. She had a vintage umbrella propped up against the bench next to her, and a little plaid satchel out of which she pulled a sandwich and an apple.
I tried to focus on my book but could not. Why the rubber boots? It was a perfect day, a bright blue cloudless sky backing up my thoughts as I looked around to see the other people in the park going about their busy lives. Not a single one carried an umbrella or wore boots; as a matter of fact none were prepared for any sort of rain at all.
I wanted to ask her, and was about to when a ringing came from her pocket and she pulled out a cell phone.
“Hello?” she said in a Danish accent, and I decided this was fate, I was not meant to inquire about her footwear. Instead I placed my book back into my messenger bag and went on my way, only to find that five minutes later, a sudden darkened sky opened up and rained down on me and the many other unprepared people on the streets. I pulled into a coffee shop for shelter, and before a minute passed the girl skipped by, dry under her umbrella, her boots protecting her feet from the massive flooding that was taking place, and her sunglasses nowhere to be seen.
Words sunglasses and rubber boots and photograph by Christina Mølholm of And the Monsters fame.
Posted in flash fiction, Inspired by a word...
Tagged andthemonsters, Christina Mølholm, collaboration, fiction, humor, irony, life, love, lunch, park, rain, reading, rubber boots, rubbers, storm, sunglasses
since i met you
This work can be purchased HERE.
Created with my Brother Charger 11, my imagination and an old post card set I found from 1949.
Posted in flash fiction, Typography
Tagged 1949, fiction, flash fiction, kitsch, life, love, Maine, old, Portland, postcard, romance, typewriter, typography, vintage
I Want to See the World With You
“I want to see the world with you.”
Her gaze froze on me as a smile curled on her mouth.
“Really?”
“Yes. And not just that.”
She grabbed my hand and held it tight. “What else?”
I smiled. “What else…”
“Come on, don’t tease!” she said as she scooted up next to me and kissed me on the neck.
“I want to do so for a long, long time.”
Her smile faded and her eyes widened so much I could almost see my reflection in them. Her hand squeezed tighter and she put her free arm around me and pulled me in for a kiss.
“How long?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
I smiled at her and ran my hand through her hair in the back the way she liked it, and she gave me three short, quick kisses.
“Come on. Tell me what you mean!”
I smiled again, kissed her once, and whispered the answer into her ear.
Made with my Brother Charger 11 typewriter made on old sheet music I found at a yard sale.
Posted in flash fiction, Typography
Tagged art, car, found art, future, Jimmie Monaco, life, love, marriage, Me and the Boy Friend, music, old car, photography, romance, sheet music, Sidney Clare, typewriter, typography, ukulele
A Partially Fictional Father’s Day Story
“You know why you’re a great dad?”
He took a sip of his coffee and raised his eyebrows. “No. Why?”
“Because every single time I’ve needed you, you were there.” He continued to look at me.
“When I have car trouble, I call you and you calm me down, tell me what to do. Something goes wrong with my house, my front door, I don’t feel well, I’m having a bad day, whatever, you always have an answer.”
“I don’t always have the answer…”
“Fine. You have the answer, or within the next ten minutes I get an email from you with a link. Or someone’s number. Or a how-to video from Youtube.”
“I’m just trying to help. Let’s not make a big deal out of it.”
I took a bite of my omelet.
“You accept me for who I am. You support me in my decisions, my art, my stories, you back me up, you want to celebrate with me when I have success, and even when I fail.”
“I just try to do what I can. I don’t do that much.”
“Ha! Whenever I have a project, you figure out all of the details. If I stop by, you offer me whatever food you made the other day. Or some extra fruit and vegetables you picked up at the produce place. Or whatever.”
He continued eating.
“You joke with me when I need you to, or when I don’t. Well, pretty much all of the time. You call me when you want to talk sports, which is a pretty big deal considering none of my friends do that and I need someone to discuss hockey with. You ask me about the oil in my car, how my house is doing, what my day has in store for me, how work is, everything.”
He looked up and gave me that look he always gives me when I’m only partially making sense to him.
“What the hell are you trying to say?”
“Can’t you tell? I love you. And happy father’s day.”
Posted in flash fiction
Tagged appreciation, dad, father, happy father's day, humor, life, love
The Final Moment
They paused and posed for a quick photograph…
…unaware it would be their last.
Posted in flash fiction, photos of strangers, Typography
Tagged accident, death, down, life, photo, photography, sad, typography
Here Comes A Caavy, A Mønster!
Tandfe, created by Christina Mølhom
The caavy, commonly known and often mistaken as a tooth fairy, lives in the mouths of human beings, finding nourishment from small chunks of tooth (usually slathered in sugar) that they dig out using their small claws, of which they have one on each hand. Caavies are known for violent territoriality and an obsession with sugar.
Tandfe awoke from his slumber and emerged from behind the tonsil, stretching his arms as far as they would go and performing his evening breathing exercises. He knew from the breathing patterns of his host that it was asleep and the growl of Tandfe’s stomach reminded him it was time to eat. He sharpened the single claw on each hand against his pointy teeth and climbed up the soft cave to the mouth of his home.
Tonight would be a feast! Once again Tandfe’s host skipped the evening cleaning ritual of his oral cavity that it’s parental figure was always complaining about (Tandfe often woke up early enough to see his host simply wet his cleaning utensil, called a ‘toothbrush’, under a faucet and then place it on the counter). Tonight there was sugar a-plenty covering the chewing mechanisms that he feasted upon every evening. He smiled, showing off his full set of incisors as he scraped a tiny piece of enamel off a nearby tooth, tasted it and smiled with delight.
He scraped a bit more and sat down to reminisce, as he always did over dinner. He remembered growing up in the piles of crystallized sugar, being hatched and raised by his mama. He was taught to fend for himself and then was whisked off on a stick when the sugar was made into rock candy. Tandfe ended up going from there to this child’s mouth, where he made his home.
He got up and walked over to the nearest tooth and cut another chunk out, noticing that this one was starting to turn a little black around the edges. He knew this meant to leave it alone, or that horrible human they called dentist would come with all of the loud machinery and scraping tools, forcing Tandfe into hiding in that dark smelly spot to the south of the tonsil.
He also noticed another tooth was loose, and knew to dig into that one as much as possible. Humans, unlike caavies, lost some of their teeth as children; it wouldn’t matter how much he ate, so he attacked it. Soon, it would fall out, and he would eat the whole tooth in a night. He always loved those nights, stealing the baby tooth from under his host’s pillow – the only downside being that he had no pockets and always lost any loose change he was carrying.
As he reminisced and planned for his next out-of-body adventure, he noticed the breathing patterns of the host start to change, and knew it was time to go back into hiding, so he jumped up, scraped a little more food and shoved it into his mouth. He ran back to the tonsil, climbing back up into his hiding place and closing his eyes for another day of rest.
Artwork by the amazing Christina Mølholm, whose blog can be seen here.
Posted in A Mønster!
Tagged andthemonsters, art, cavity, children, Christina Mølholm, collaboration, dentist, eating, fantasy, fiction, I hate the dentist, life, monster, mystery, photography, photoshop, tandfe, tooth fairy
A Flash of Inspiration 