In August 2018, Zeroflash published my story on the stand alone flash pieces page of their website. You’ll have to scroll down the page a bit to find it. Or read it below. This is a story of a photo found in the trash and a remembrance of the moment it was taken.

Reflecting Fire

by DL Shirey

Her eyes flame from the camera flash. Mother looks like she saw the devil and is just about to scream. In the picture she’s with her sisters. Beck is celebrating thirty, Maggie six years older, Mother in the middle. Beck’s puffed cheeks prepare to blow candles. Maggie, always talking, is caught mid-sentence, so her teeth show like a grin. Mother has seen the camera, a blurred wine glass rushes to block her face, the flat of her irises reflecting fire.

Halves of this photo, found in the garbage, are now whole under yellowed cellophane tape.

The picture taker was seven. He now knows why Mother got so angry. Why people were family one minute, then the anger made them act like strangers. But at seven he wondered why parties were never at his house, and when everyone did get together, why his folks were always first to leave. Dad said it was the long drive back. Mother didn’t say anything, had her arms folded tight against her chest.

It was a long drive. Me in the back seat. Dad never talked, his eyes hard ahead in the rearview mirror. Mother was slumped beside him, softly snoring.

END

True story. I volunteer my time at a bookstore. We sell lots of used magazines, so it wasn’t surprising to see a stack of the British royalty mag, Majesty, show up. As I was unloading the box, there was a lonely copy of Confingo, a literary journal. I read it and thought I had something appropriate to submit. It was accepted and in May 2018 my flash fiction was in print. Confingo is a gorgeous, high-quality publication available in the UK and elsewhere. Here is the reprinted story:

Eye Contact

by DL Shirey

I thought shyness demurred her eyes each time I tried to meet them.

“I’ve had a bit of facial surgery,” she said, “When people look at me I always forget they’re not seeing what I used to be.”

She patted at the back of her head as if a hair was out of place. It was odd, the hair I mean; what I could see of it, at least. Plaited in thick ropes, it reminded me of dreadlocks, but there was no fleece or fuzzy texture to it, just smooth, bulky twines pulled up under a top hat.

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This story is one that never would have been published without a draft or two (or three) presented to my writing group. Thanks to Craig, Emrie, Mireille and Steph for the candid feedback and patience to sit through yet another revision. It was first published by Ariel Chart in June 2018.

A Harmless Prank

by DL Shirey

Morning came to the courtyard between iron bars of a skylight, brightening the floor outside his cell door. Finner dropped to his knees and touched his cheek to cold concrete, eyeballing the distance and angle from his door to Peralta’s. Finner had an idea how to cheer up his shipmate, then he wondered, are we still called shipmates on dry land?

Prisoners weren’t allowed to speak, so they wrote messages instead. Finner hadn’t traded words with Peralta for three weeks, not since their jailers confiscated the conveyance used to pass notes. When it was found, Finner took a beating, but it didn’t stop him from assembling another rig.

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