Flash Fictions
Distance Theory
The next swift movement comes, and I'm stopping. I almost didn't even see it. Its ever swifting actions don't require motion. I can't tell you why. I also can't tell you five, but you don't see the numbers complaining. Some might wonder how movement and motion can be so separate, yet get along on the syntax level. Well, I fear it has something to do with punctuation and the internal combustion engine. I say internal, because it's just too damn cold outside to move, and movements need commas. And I say fear, because fear is a fun word to say.
A Character Set that Includes a Letter
I am running from the pedestrians. And I am slowing to a jog. If I was in shape, or the shapes of alphabet blocks, I could keep running. But I'm not. When you stack me up, five blocks deep, I don't spell words. Instead I'm covered with vowels, and can only spell out noises. The reason, I suppose, is that I eat things blocks don't eat. And blocks are creatures. No, they can't move, or reproduce, or fog small mirrors with their breath. Nor can they buy cars or get five thousand dollar loans for home improvement. But when you're running from people on the street, dodging umbrellas and oily puddles, alphabet blocks just seem more alive than usual.
Raising rabbits is not easy. No, no it's really not. If you get scared, e-mail me and I'll calm you down. Things being what things being.
