Destination (Flash Fiction)

The endless clouds reminds me of distant forest fires, a rage of destruction without sound. The trees bare, forlorn limbs weighed with a cloak of black birds. They are silent and still, hard eyes reflecting the dead, sourceless light.

I too am silent. My heart beats because it knows nothing else, my lungs draw in air tasting of copper and dust. Feet moving forward, one step at a time, with terrible finality; carrying me that place, that tree, waiting beside the river I never wanted to see again.


Copyright 2017 by Kira A. Moore, all rights reserved.

Love and Memory (Flash Fiction)

She sat on her father’s lap, head against his chest so she could listen to the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart. His heat enveloping her. His scent, of deodorant and some undefinable thing which was him, filled her nose and calmed the emotions which threatened to overwhelm her once again. In her hands she held a green shirt, not THAT shirt but close enough. Not the one she begged her mother to wear. The one she agreed to even though it didn’t match her outfit. The one which made her late. The one she was wearing when…

A tear rolled down her cheek as her breath caught in her throat.

Without a word he hugged her close.

The Book (Flash Fiction)

It was a rag-tag little thing, this forgotten book of stories, so worn the name was lost to the past and the cover had faded to an nondescript bluish gray. The edges of the pages yellowed and stained from countless readings. Allie held the tiny volume in trembling hands. She had always felt a special affinity with books, the strange characters and enchanting worlds held between the covers had the power to transport her away from the everyday and made the time seem to pass all at once.

Until this moment she has sought all of them at the school library which left the Summer looming as a huge void every year. She had lost count of the times she had asked her mother to go to the city library or maybe a bookstore like she had seen on television, only to be told there was too little time or too little money. She admonished herself, her mom worked hard at two jobs, she struggled for them to make it from month to month. To think of something so frivolous was selfish when paying for school was enough to leave her mother in tears.

This was the reason she in this store, a simple little thrift store where they could buy an entire years worth of school clothes for what they would pay for a single outfit at a department store. Books and toys were an extravagance. She closed her eyes, smiling wistfully as her hands caressed the cloth before returning the book to its place. She let out a small sigh and went to find her mother.

When they had finished and went to pay, she was surprised to see the little book sitting next to the register. The sales clerk slipped it into the bag with their other purchases, she winked and whispered, “A gift from a secret admirer.”

Dreams (Fiction)

This lake, surface shimmering under an unblinking light. It calls with a slow undulation, sweeping left to right then back again. Vapors play, swirl and dance. I pray to the nymph or the Lady of the Lake, bring me treasures; the pearls of Poseidon or the sword of English kings, but let not these waters be barren, for they are the dreams of my youth.