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The house went dead quiet and the den lights went out. The whirr of the refrigerator stopped. Norris knew something was wrong, same as I did. He asked for cream before the fridge got warm, he understood. I gave him treats instead. Usually these things flickered and came back on within seconds, then everything blinked,
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“One of the best parts of the concert is when the orchestra tunes up their instruments,” said Silas. “It hides the frenzy backstage, but hints at it when the squawks and squeaks get flung from the pit to the back of the house.” “The more frenetic the tune up, the bigger the tribute the director,”
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Stella felt like she walked to the door of an open plane. She was terrified of heights, two miles was a long way to fall. Her walk was short today, less than fifty feet, and she didn’t have to take it, not really. Maybe she wouldn’t. She could turn around. Her friends that surrounded her
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Mark Twain’s “War Prayer”. It’s not for everyone. It’s not sweet nor is it funny. Lots of folks don’t even like it. “Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth into battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace
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Mom lost her mind and married Roebuck. None of the kids could stand him, but she was entitled to her midlife crisis, same as anyone else. Since his house burned down on their first date, something about gunpowder gun cleaning equipment and an explosion, such a catastrophe, that they moved to Texas soon after they
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I left the windows on the car open when it got hot in the summer. Mom and Dad always did, so I figured I better too. The car was so hot a dog would have died if I’d have left it in there, a kid would have too, open windows or not. Our parents left
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If you’re doing your best writing, you’re always on the cusp of embarrassing yourself.” –Arthur Miller I’ve been tasked to write my Author’s Mission Statement. It’s in the brainstorming and drafting stages at this point. I’ve stolen phrases from other writers I know. I’ve stuck fancy words in it and wrangled them around to make
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It must be the year thirty-eight, thirty-nine, or it could be forty of my teaching career.. I felt good when I walked onto campus this year until I found out my friend, the head cook, wouldn’t, couldn’t be back to work. She has terminal cancer. She seemed fine at the pool this summer. She did
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The pile of vinyl records dropped one Frank Sinatra album onto the turntable. He crooned about Strangers in the Night, and I smiled in my sleep. The needle skipped and Snoopy and the Red Barron were fighting it out in the sky. The needle jumped to Bolero, it pranced around in my head, and a
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Against the Tide
Alice felt like a deer swimming against the tide in the ocean, a riptide, not realizing imminent death, or did she? Was it a conscious or subconscious attempt at suicide? She made the mistake in anger of asking a friend, “Just how much Prozac would kill me?” The shrink was at her house in half Read more
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An exerpt from the abandoned Novel
Seventh Gate 4 Will had been plotting murder in his mind for weeks, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to do it. His theatre had been closed for months because of the plague and people were screaming for blood. He cursed himself. Duncan had to die, but how? He mumbled and Read more
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The Race
The Race “If I hadn’t put off everything, I wouldn’t need to do this,” said Walter to nobody. He walked on the creaky old expansion bridge that crossed the river, it would be years before it would be repaired. Every step he took the bridge shook and sent another random thought through his brain. Sometimes Read more
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Knives or Feathers
“ ‘Whatever,’ is the wrong answer,” I said to myself, to the boys, to the cat, to the dog. Be specific in your choices. You only get to make this one once. Make it a happy one, always. Consequences come at you with knives or feathers. I much prefer feathers, the soft parts anyway. Everything Read more
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I Giggle at the Wrong Things
What makes me giggle? I giggle when I get attention I don’t understand. I feel too exposed, and I don’t like the word “vulnerable.” I’ve worked too hard not to be. I need to giggle more. It’s supposed to be good for you. I’ve heard it burns calories better than exercise. Some folks are born Read more
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Poor Ophelia
Poor Ophelia. Honor the birds that sing for you Listen for their songs Delight in their music If you can If you can Damn you, Hamlet, the twin that didn’t live ruined everything. Daddy won’t ever be right again. And there’s no room for you, is there, little girl? Mad’s triple talk. Are you out Read more
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The house went dead quiet and the den lights went out. The whirr of the refrigerator stopped. Norris knew something was wrong, same as I did. He asked for cream before the fridge got warm, he understood. I gave him treats instead. Usually these things flickered and came back on within seconds, then everything blinked,
-
“One of the best parts of the concert is when the orchestra tunes up their instruments,” said Silas. “It hides the frenzy backstage, but hints at it when the squawks and squeaks get flung from the pit to the back of the house.” “The more frenetic the tune up, the bigger the tribute the director,”
-
Stella felt like she walked to the door of an open plane. She was terrified of heights, two miles was a long way to fall. Her walk was short today, less than fifty feet, and she didn’t have to take it, not really. Maybe she wouldn’t. She could turn around. Her friends that surrounded her
-
Mark Twain’s “War Prayer”. It’s not for everyone. It’s not sweet nor is it funny. Lots of folks don’t even like it. “Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth into battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace
-
Mom lost her mind and married Roebuck. None of the kids could stand him, but she was entitled to her midlife crisis, same as anyone else. Since his house burned down on their first date, something about gunpowder gun cleaning equipment and an explosion, such a catastrophe, that they moved to Texas soon after they
-
I left the windows on the car open when it got hot in the summer. Mom and Dad always did, so I figured I better too. The car was so hot a dog would have died if I’d have left it in there, a kid would have too, open windows or not. Our parents left
-
If you’re doing your best writing, you’re always on the cusp of embarrassing yourself.” –Arthur Miller I’ve been tasked to write my Author’s Mission Statement. It’s in the brainstorming and drafting stages at this point. I’ve stolen phrases from other writers I know. I’ve stuck fancy words in it and wrangled them around to make
-
It must be the year thirty-eight, thirty-nine, or it could be forty of my teaching career.. I felt good when I walked onto campus this year until I found out my friend, the head cook, wouldn’t, couldn’t be back to work. She has terminal cancer. She seemed fine at the pool this summer. She did
-
The pile of vinyl records dropped one Frank Sinatra album onto the turntable. He crooned about Strangers in the Night, and I smiled in my sleep. The needle skipped and Snoopy and the Red Barron were fighting it out in the sky. The needle jumped to Bolero, it pranced around in my head, and a
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Peace Escaped
Peace escaped. Bound to sadness and pain. Even the doves that brought peace and tranquility had given up hope and moved on. There were other souls to save, and time was of essence. There was only so much with which a human could cope, a wreath of laurel leaves and branches, another burden to bear…
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My Commandments
My personal commandments are not religious, but they have a spiritual ring to them, I suppose. They are today’s commandments. I may change my mind somewhere down the road. I know they would have been different before I had children. The crone is evolving, 5. Be creative. Make life interesting. 6. Smile more.…
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Idle Hands
“Keep your hands busy and the hours will pass like minutes,” she said while she pulled the needle up through the fabric. “Don’t let your mind dwell on the world around you. Focus inside yourself. Focus on that which you create. The blanket with the yarn, the dress with the fabric, the stories with the…
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Spiders, Flies, and Coffee
“Spiders, Flies, and Coffee” a Quirky Flash Fiction Piece by Devonne Brown Published in Chewers and Masticadores, April 29, 2025
Devonne Brown 