3 flash fictions
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3 flash fictions

 J. A. Tyler
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 J. A. Tyler
3 flash fictions
by J. A. Tyler  FollowFollow
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J. A. Tyler is founding editor of Mud Luscious Press and the author of INCONCEIVABLE WILSON (Scrambler Books, 2009), A MAN OF GLASS & ALL THE...read more WAYS WE HAVE FAILED (Fugue State Press, 2011), and A SHINY, UNUSED HEART (Black Coffee Press, 2011). For more, visit: www.chokeonthesewords.com.
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3 flash fictions
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of wires

He opens up his arms and exposes all the wires that hold him together. He disconnects the wire that makes his brain work. He disconnects the wire that makes his lungs work. He disconnects the wire that makes him always think she will come searching for him, even though he knows that she never will.

The red wires untangles and then braided, he makes them into a rope and dangles it from her roof, down past her window, a single line of red in front of her openings.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel he says, not knowing exactly what it is he means.

The energy of his battery it slowly drains from him, the more wires he pulls, the more disconnects he makes. His left side drooping, his right. The wires spooling from his belly-button, the wires where he used to have veins, the wires where a heart sometime before it used to pulse.

Don’t forget that what we once had is how we say a word like History, and then the wire that makes him go pulls loose and there is a whirring sound and an eternal silence, a gaping hole where the colors are nothing but grey in varying shades.

Let down your hair he says, and everything is as it has been, unclear.

of mountains

Like the things he can’t move, standing next to her but unseen, sitting beside her but without even a breath of touching. The peaks that are his head, the valleys his toes, the in-between that is in-between him, crags and hills and the streams flowing down his sides.

Free rides he says and tries to make his mouth in the shape of a gondola. He tries to make her smile. He tries to make her heart feel like an aspen grove, interconnected and branching out and flattened across his chest.

A baby’s eyes, still and snow-fallen and no footsteps up its bank. A mountain. The obstacles in their way, the monuments.

I love you he says, afraid it is muffled in too many stands of trees, lost in a vast wilderness.

of smoke

He holds his fingers up to the sky and they blend with the clouds. His lips go to say to her, to speak the words, to make the sound of I know that between us we have lost everything we had but today is a new day and different from yesterday and maybe with this kind of sun there will be something left but the words go to smoke along with his eyes and his nose and his teeth, all the haze exhaled. Going like this until the world is full of more confusion than it was and the people they look through a gauze like cotton stretched tight over the sky and her not knowing anything different other than how fog and smoke and clouds and words are all another way to be hollowed.

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