Still his mother
Blenda knocked once and waited. From behind the door she could hear people moving, but nobody opened. She knocked again; sharper this time. The door opened… Blenda recognized the woman. […]
Category Archives: flashfiction
Not seashells
“It’s not like selling seashells by the seashore, Mom?” Kayla pulled down her shirt; …hiding the needle marks? “But, you were to work for summer only as beach waitress… and […]
Sowing tomatoes elsewhere
We filled the belly of our spaceship with the final soil our mother carried and to ticks of Geiger counters we slipped into the upper decks of our ark and […]
One more cup of coffee
Ever since I asked we had been silent. “One more of cup of coffee?”, the waitress smiled, gazing at the jeweler’s box on the table. “Yes, please”, I answered just […]
Payday temptations
I pulled down the hood of my jacket, trying to keep my glasses free from rain. The wind from the harbor brought scents of mud and salt; far away the […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 