No one knows exactly what is going on inside my father’s body. It’s past time for finding out and fixing. Bones are crumbling. His Brain—delirium piled on dementia resting on layers of denial. He is nearing the end of his Hospice six-months. Probably won’t have to renew.
New year. The below zeros. Snow cover. It’s what it sounds like. Stone cold gentle. Soft blow to the—wouldn’t hear it piling up if you didn’t know what to look for. Lands you in another world.
Six new inches land on eight old inches. HIs frail body mostly covered. I would take a picture of the sheet of white and leave out the pine trees, turkey tracks, edge of the road and any traces of the human—for scale.
Saturday 18 June 2022
'The Below Zeros' by Kirsten Mosher
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
FlashFlood is OPEN for submissions until 27 April 2024!
FlashFlood is OPEN for submissions from 12:01 a.m. BST on Sunday, 21 April to 23:59 BST on Saturday, 27 April 2024. You can read our submi...
-
CHICKEN +50 Buttermilk fried, the apogee of chicken, its chickeniest chickenness, rich gold with bite and crunch and tendern...
-
In case you missed any of the pieces we appeared during the 2023 FlashFlood, here's an index to everything. Happy Reading! ' They...
-
We are delighted to nominate the following 2023 FlashFlood stories to the Best Small Fictions Anthology: ' I Once Swallowed a Rollercoas...
No comments:
Post a Comment