by Lynn Lipinski | Jan 16, 2015 | Flash Fiction Friday
Bigfoot tapped the microphone set on the table in front of him. “Testing, testing,” he said, his voice low and guttural. The sound guy shook his head and rushed over to fiddle with the dials and wires of the audio set-up for the hastily arranged press conference. The...
by Lynn Lipinski | Jan 9, 2015 | Flash Fiction Friday
Robert had gone slack-jawed and moody from watching the news coverage of the shootings at a satirical magazine offices just a few kilometers from the apartment he shared with Cybille. The shaky footage shot by a passerby who heard cries of “Allah Akbar!” then...
by Lynn Lipinski | Jan 2, 2015 | Flash Fiction Friday
My phone blared a low-pitched tone that woke me up faster than reveille ever did when I was in the Army. The clock said three eleven a.m. I rubbed the sleep crust out of my eyes and made myself focus on my surroundings. Light from the full moon slipped through the...
by Lynn Lipinski | Dec 26, 2014 | Flash Fiction Friday
She was already late to work for a job she did not love. Stress thrummed in her head like smoke-colored static, focusing her attention inward. The static muted the pleasures of her favorite song on the radio, of the plop of raindrops on the windshield, of the friction...
by Lynn Lipinski | Dec 19, 2014 | Flash Fiction Friday
I am made of glass and icy tears flow in my veins where blood should be. He looks right through me at the new curtains and doesn’t see the hours of picking out the fabric, measuring and cutting, pinning and hemming. He doesn’t see me balanced on the stepladder with a...
