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While I still remember, the color of the snow before me while behind me on the high ridge, fire sings through the dry timber at dawn, driving us down to the river. Read the rest of this entry »
—299 words. Anything more is waste.—
You are currently browsing davidbdale’s articles.
July 29, 2008 in 299 Words, Adoption, Baby, Birth, Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, novels, Politics, Race, Short stories, Society, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | by davidbdale | 3 comments
People assume we adopted her. (I would assume so too, except that I witnessed her unlikely birth to my very white wife by way of a nearly transparent, very white, me. I don’t object to the riddle of our mismatched hues Read the rest of this entry »
July 24, 2008 in 299 Words, Flash Fiction, Very Short Novels | Tags: Apocalypse, Beauty, Danger, Fear, Love, Memory | by davidbdale | 7 comments
While I still remember, the color of the snow before me while behind me on the high ridge, fire sings through the dry timber at dawn, driving us down to the river. Read the rest of this entry »
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