It’s been a week since my novel debuted on Amazon, and I’ve spent the last seven days hustling, doing my best to get the word out about On the Verge. Many, many thanks to my friends and family who have read, shared, and reviewed my scrappy little novel already. I hope more of you will read it, and let me know what you think (you can check it out here). It really is a dream come true to see a book I wrote up on Amazon. I hope that with a little luck On the Verge will find some traction, and I can justify writing another one. I’d love to do a sequel.
In the meantime I’ve been in the mood to do a little flash fiction. I asked for words on Facebook that I could use as inspiration and Jayme Yahr’s suggestion, storm, was the winner. So what follows is a little micro flash fiction to the tune of 150 words (okay, 153 but who’s counting?). Consider it an amuse-bouche to On the Verge’s main course.
“Looks like rain,” he said.
I stared up into the perfect blue sky. A bird flew low, disappearing behind the old motel across the street. A curtain fluttered in one of its windows. Above the cracked plate glass of the lobby door a sign reading ‘Vacancy’ swung, but there was no breeze.
I pushed myself into the corner of the bus stop shelter, flakes of peeling paint getting caught in my hair. I kept my eyes down only glancing up occasionally to check the horizon for the #39.
“Definitely a storm comin’.”
Crazy, I thought.
The sun slipped behind the motel’s ugly facade. The bus should be here by now.
“There’s always a moment before the first drop.” He paused, and I met his eye. “‘Round here they say that’s when the devil walks.”
Lights cut through the twilight. The 39. Finally.
As he wandered away, the rain fell, painting the sidewalk black.
Image credit: sf.co.ua