Morning Potion
Carefully Giselle ground Blue Mountain beans, brewed them to perfection and it was ready just as Mark rushed down the stairs. He took the cup, leaving without goodbye. Discussions yesterday […]
Category Archives: flashfiction
Predator
The decaying leaves form thick layers on the asphalt, crusted and sick as a leper’s skin. The streetlights only paint insufficient patches along my path, and where it doesn’t reach […]
Cleaning up
He had left her empty — Void. Emelie sorted through Marten’s paper — left behind were bills and more bills — left for her to pay. Jewelry, fancy dining, five […]
One last service
On his deathbed, Malcolm pondered the joys in his life: quail’s egg, lark-tongues, caviar and Kobe-beef washed down with Chateau Chéval Blanc. Both ruthless and fortunate, he left in his […]
It still feels like betrayal
They walk among us still — the souls of proxy-fighters we betrayed. Most of us still stagger streets with down-cast eyes; air-pods filling our heads with blazing hymns. It’s painful […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 