Flash Fiction

Up, Up and Away

I finished writing my novel sitting on a barstool at LaGuardia, with two empty Heinekens and a shot of Jack in front of me. The morning sun was still weak and hazy and so was I. My laptop was dead, the power cord lost at O’Hare many days ago, and I Read more…

By Kay Bolden, ago
Flash Fiction

Sweet Little Lies

It’s always a mistake to let the politicians come in before the entree. Before cocktails even. As if these dinner parties weren’t bad enough. I slid over on the long, lumpy settee, swallowed down my irritation and let him sit next to me. Senator Buck Martino in the flesh. Not as much Read more…

By Kay Bolden, ago
Flash Fiction

Bloodlust

A man is not so hard to kill as you might think. You hear tales of soldiers and warriors, marching through blood-soaked mud, bleeding into their boots, their weapons at the ready. You read histories of wild savages and untamed horses, and men so bold as to claim the wilderness Read more…

By Kay Bolden, ago
Blog

That Thing We Don’t Talk About

I planted collard greens around my patio, and they’re scaring my neighbors. They love the tomatoes, the romaine and Swiss chard. They ask for basil and oregano on a regular basis, which I appreciate, because how much basil can one woman eat anyway? I share my flower bulbs, my onion Read more…

By Kay Bolden, ago
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