Tom Flanders World

Writer of Fiction
 

Express – 100 words

Anthony stepped into the path of the 37 Express. The driver, distracted, saw Anthony too late. It hurt less than expected. As Anthony’s body arched backwards, instead of having his life flash before his eyes, he saw a highlight reel of the worst movies ever. Before he could scream “that’s not fair,” his head hit the pavement and everything became pain and darkness.

When the light returned a crowd was gathered around him. He felt he should say something profound. So he said, “Something profound.” One woman laughed and took his picture. Satisfied, Anthony surrendered his spirit to the void.

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Tags: , | Comments (0) | Author: Tom | Published: April 15, 2017

Yawn – 100 words

sheets photo - yawn

Photo by nabriola

She yawned her sing-songy yawn. At this hour, just past midnight, that yawn could mean any one of seven things. Only one involves me. Just to be sure I reached towards her and found her bare shoulder.

She didn’t react. That’s not always bad. She didn’t pull away. I rubbed her shoulder gently and I felt her muscles relax. That’s good.

Then she made the worst of all possible noises. A steady snore that indicated that she was not only asleep but was well on her way to a long deep hibernation. I pulled back my hand and drifted off.

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Tags: , | Comments (0) | Author: Tom | Published: April 1, 2017

Bitter – 100 words

dark river photo - bitterStanding on the peak looking down at the fogged-over city. Headphones blasting. Patti Smith Pissing in the River. The holiest of the holy punk prayers. Feeling inadequate.

I see the beauty. Hear it. Know it, but have no passion for it. An emptiness of creativity. I’m not living up to my subversive potential. It says so in my permanent record. Formalism missing that final spark. A weeping frog. A misplaced pencil.

Only following, never leading. Always fear, never folly. Finding, at my best, only mediocre otherness. Hiding from horizons of triumph. Never daring. Rejecting, in my youth, rebellion’s bitter tit.

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Tags: , | Comments (0) | Author: Tom | Published: March 27, 2017

100 words – drinking

The dog is staring at me. He knows I want to run screaming into the night. A block or so away is booze. The forbidden nectar. Forbidden to me because I need a drink so bad. The trick of my brand of alcoholism is that I’m only allowed to drink when I don’t need a drink. Wanting a drink is OK, but needing is verboten. The real trick then is to be honest with myself about what is want and what is need. Often a mighty struggle, but not tonight. Tonight I know there is no doubt. It is need.

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Tags: , | Comments (0) | Author: Tom | Published: April 26, 2015

100 Words – Vegas

Rolling down hills like little kids. Falling off bridges like jilted lovers. Gravity’s angels fulfilling their destinies. Imperfect lives connecting villains and heroes. Knowing which is which is the trick. Smiling faces telling lies. Angry threats speak the truth. Hearts hesitate then yield, at once regretting a choice that was the only option. Daydreaming of gods while trolling for fools. Walking down sidewalks at dusk avoiding the eyes of strangers. Wanting a quiet one, knowing you need a loud one. A flash of silver catches the eye. Loneliness shrieks in recognition then runs away. The night finds you alone again.

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Tags: , | Comments (0) | Author: Tom | Published: December 5, 2014

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