by Lynn Lipinski | Sep 26, 2014 | Flash Fiction Friday, Writing
Safety reasons. That was what I told everyone at Gunslingers firing range that morning when they asked why I wanted to learn how to shoot a gun. It was a lie. Julianne and I were there to meet men, but saying that out loud makes you look desperate. Saying we needed...
by Lynn Lipinski | Sep 19, 2014 | Flash Fiction Friday, Los Angeles, Writing
The normals abandoned the park to the squirrels and the homeless that white hot afternoon. They retreated to air-conditioned hinterlands with their fancy red headphones and silly dogs and trilling smart phones and neon sneakers, and left in their wake an easy and...
by Lynn Lipinski | Sep 12, 2014 | Flash Fiction Friday, Writing
Doc Wimple loved to diagnose the curious fair goers who came to his traveling medicine show, and this show in Jamestown was no different, despite the heat and threat of rain. After quickly sizing up a teenage girl with eczema and a baby with colic, he focused on the...
by Lynn Lipinski | Sep 7, 2014 | Flash Fiction Friday, Writing
The tidy parlor smelled of decay and burning. Hand over her nose, Eustace scanned the floors, furniture and walls for the smell’s source. But the only disorder in her orderly room was the jumble of toys the twins left on the sofa. The boys were gone, but somehow she...
by Lynn Lipinski | Aug 29, 2014 | Flash Fiction Friday, Writing
She waved at me today. The girl in the straw hat and red skirt stood on the roof of the abandoned Tolliver lace factory. She looked like Audrey Hepburn going a garden party instead of the usual street kid looking for a place to squat. She saw me staring at her from my...
by Lynn Lipinski | Aug 26, 2014 | Los Angeles, Profiles, Writing
Ever read that melancholy writing that romanticizes alcoholic, desolate characters as broken geniuses hiding their light under dirty hair and scruffy clothes? I’ve heard it called drunken literature. Charles Bukowski and William Burroughs owned the genre. I just...
