Shortshort fiction and creative nonfiction stories -- a little poetry too -- by Colleen Lynn. http://colleenlynn.com It was a night a cat would not slip into, even after a dose of nip. She was unconcerned. No one in the neighborhood could see her, nor could the dogs or birds. http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_123.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_123.htm She has one memory before the parade. Hands of a warm giant hold her. He presses her to the roots of his neck. They pump like a foamy river... http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_magda.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_magda.htm I broke my favorite necklace. I broke it because I was laughing too hard. My neck size is the same, if not smaller than it was when I used to wear my favorite necklace more often... http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_favorite.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_favorite.htm It's good to be out," I say. He does not look up. He stares at the words. His eyes are like a clock that ticks. They loop the page in dull time. "What looks good?" I ask. I gaze... http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_dinner.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_dinner.htm "Stop doing that." I moan. I twist away from my mother's hands and shake my head fiercely, just like Dixie our poodle does when she wakes up from a nap. I don't like grown ups pressing on my head. It makes me feel like the back of a chair. http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_shoes.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_shoes.htm I am missing a ring. My neighbors agree. Pinky is the most distraught over my loss. She stays curled like a child at sleep. When she dreams, she goes to another world. Often, I hear her make sounds from this place. Her mutterings and moans make me feel like I have one toe and that I must stand on it... http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_ring.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_ring.htm At the puddle's edge, I pause. A butterfly with a crimped wing sits atop a leaf uncertainly. I bend my knees to look closer. The small creature looks back at me. I reach forth and sweep the leaf and the butterfly into my palm. http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_butterfly.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/short_butterfly.htm I really want to talk to my grandmother, but I can't because she's dead. She died nearly a decade ago. My mother thinks my grandmother is the reason why I... http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_talkingtodead.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_talkingtodead.htm It had started as a game. We jumped around the gym, pulling each other's hair and tripping each other's feet. We held hands and spun in fast circles... http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_myfriends.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_myfriends.htm "I'd Smack You, But Shit Splatters!" That's what the bumper sticker on the back of the truck read. I envisioned a mound of shit several feet high and someone taking... http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_dontbelieve.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_dontbelieve.htm I'm overwhelmed by the colossal amount of news. At every second of every day, news gets pushed into my eyeballs and shoved into my ears. I'm tired of all of the pushing and shoving... http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_belief.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_belief.htm As a child, I believed that all I could touch and see was real. I also believed that the backyard tree had a door that led to a hidden land. It was by playing in the tree that my fascination for bugs took root... http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_bottom.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_bottom.htm "Sit!" She screamed. "You are a dog. As a dog, you do what dog's do--simple things. You also do everything that I tell you to, and when I tell you to." http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_sit.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/memoir_sit.htm Being in Bed with Ann Coulter, Why Do I Smoke? Why Women Hate Spiders and more... http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_videos.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_videos.htm She cartwheels down the staircase shouting, "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay!" http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew01.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew01.htm Everything is happening at once. My skin, from all of the slapping, is panic red. The plastic tape holder breaks a second time as I try to meld two pieces of cardboard into one. The box is almost too old to hold anything of value... http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_atonce.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_atonce.htm The door opened and in walked the eight-legged freak we'd been talking about. The hairy bastard had been following me around for years. He was still grotesque with the same intrusive tentacles that could be everywhere at once... http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_calamity.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_calamity.htm She mounts me to a wooden ring the size of a man's hat. She holds the top of the ring firmly with one hand and presses the bottom into her lap. She pushes it in, and pulls it out my other side. After a time, I grow numb to the stabbing... http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_object.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_object.htm She stands in line for a foreign film smoking. A man with a clipboard makes his way toward her. He shoves the petition into her face. Sign this, he says. It's to eliminate indoor smoking. Why would I do that? she says. Because I like clean air, he says... http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_lines.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_lines.htm A tuft of blond hair/Stands up like a broom / Alarming her eye / A dog-eared dress jacket / Clings to his chest / Sounding hot sirens / But it is the belt/It is the belt / That quiets her panic... http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_ex.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/thestew_ex.htm Links to all of Colleen Lynn's stories http://www.colleenlynn.com/sitemap.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/sitemap.htm Interesting and boring happenings in Colleen's life http://www.colleenlynn.com/lifenews.htm http://www.colleenlynn.com/lifenews.htm