by Lynn Lipinski | Aug 21, 2015 | Flash Fiction Friday
My wristwatch was stuck at half past two, even though the morning sun indicated otherwise. Most people would get a battery, reset the time and move on with their day. But I had old superstitions rattling around in my head, a legacy of my Nana’s myriad household...
by Lynn Lipinski | Jun 2, 2015 | Flash Fiction Friday
Editor’s note: you can read Part 4 here. He knew as he walked to the waiting room with Melly that he couldn’t leave. He texted Ray that he was tied up, then slumped into a chair like a man knocked down by a haymaker punch he never saw coming. His mind played...
by Lynn Lipinski | Apr 25, 2015 | Flash Fiction Friday
Editor’s note: you can read Part 3 here. The smell of diesel fuel and exhaust hit Neil’s nose, then gave way to the disinfectant and alcohol smell of the emergency room. Last time Neil was in an emergency room, his mother was still alive, a cut on her head...
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...
