by Lynn Lipinski | Mar 13, 2015 | Flash Fiction Friday
Neil crunched through the chords of AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” on the corner of Hill Street and Main in Santa Monica, the mini-amplifier stealing power from the corporate coffee seller without gaining the attention of its many baristas. If the caffeine junkies sitting...
by Lynn Lipinski | Mar 6, 2015 | Flash Fiction Friday
I’m hiking the steepest part of Wildwood Canyon in the late afternoon. My muscles are screaming for oxygen but each gulp of air seems to bring only dust. This hike is both real and in my head, for I am scaling the internal terrain of my disappointment with Liam....
by Lynn Lipinski | Feb 13, 2015 | Flash Fiction Friday
Dylan Brody stood on the rooftop of his North Hollywood apartment with his telescope and notebook, looking for what unkind people referred to as “little green men.” The science of ufology was so misunderstood, and he hadn’t done much to help it gain mainstream...
by Lynn Lipinski | Feb 6, 2015 | Flash Fiction Friday
Bradlee felt thick with lack of sleep. Her body was moving at the speed of sludge and her mind couldn’t keep up even with that. Her keys should have been on the counter by the door, but they weren’t. Merry babbled in her baby carrier, her hands bouncing in...
by Lynn Lipinski | Jan 30, 2015 | Flash Fiction Friday
They called them points for a reason, Marlene thought, because that’s how you keep score in a fight. And without the score, how do you know who won? Her husband Carlos kept score by how he felt. The fights made Marlene feel safer and more in control, which was...
