Saturday, 25 June 2016

'A Mermaid’s Purse Is Also Called A Devil’s Pocketbook' by April Bradley

Clara measures time by tide. The intervals of the spring tide along the shore impose a metronomic order upon her worry. She huddles upon the strand with her knees drawn up against her swelling breasts and gazes at the wrack floating in the channel of tidewater. She listens for a heartbeat she cannot hear. An October squall rakes off the Sound, adorning her with spindrift, feeding her salt. Soon, it will rain, and she must leave to prepare dinner for her husband and their glittering company—glittering company is the most tiresome kind.

There is no more time, so she gives way to despair and hope, secreting this fragile thing away. She rises and stumbles on a Mermaid’s Purse laying in the receding wash. The translucent pillow of the egg case startles her. She races for the parking lot as the storm quickens. She is soaked through, frigid, and as she drives home, she fears the wetness between her legs is blood and loss.

Published in Hermeneutic Chaos Literary Journal, Issue 6, January 2015


  1. This so beautiful, April. I love it.

  2. a sharp wet kick in the heart.....such gorgeous language are awesome

  3. This is such a gorgeous story, April. I love everything about it: measuring time by the tide, listening for the heartbeat, and of course her fear that the wetness is blood. Absolute perfection I tell you!


The 2022 Submission Window is Now Closed

Thank you to everyone who sent in work for consideration in this year's FlashFlood.  For those of you still waiting for a reply, we'...