—299 words. Anything more is waste.—
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February 15, 2007 in 299 Words, Airport, Child, Denial, Family, Flash Fiction, Hope, Parent, Plane Crash | by davidbdale | 5 comments
They live in molded plastic chairs bolted to the floor before the great black window of Gate B4, looking at the glass when they can bear to see reflections of what they’ve become, or through it at the sky that never brings their son’s plane home.
Read the rest of this entry »February 13, 2007 in 299 Words, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, novels, Poetry, reading, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | by davidbdale | 3 comments
When I was six we nearly blew up the railroad station. I can’t believe it when I think back, but at the time it was so common for children to get our hands on explosives. The older boys, and by that I mean ten, eleven, figured out how to render the volatile agent from unexploded land mines in boiling water and pack it into cakes they could ignite with an improvised fuse. Read the rest of this entry »
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