Welcome

“When Crows Die” is to be serial flash fiction of about forty plus stories. At this stage I’m fine if one does not fit the whole. I will be releasing a new story about once a week. They all stand alone but collectively strive for a larger impression and will therefore make up a novel. I hope you enjoy as we go.

Like The Spirit

The dash radio crackled as chain-lightning danced low on the horizon. In the next moment the truck cab jangled again with the biscuits and gravy of country-western music. A solitary gust of wind buffeted Jake’s progress down the road and a dozen large drops of water splattered across the windshield. Then it stopped. This was the big country under the influence of rolling weather. A bump on the wipers and Jake cleared his view.
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Cora-Sue

Saturday Oct. 16 1946 Batesville Arkansas The river sparkled like a bucket full of costume jewelry. Along both banks the trees were full of gold, greens, and red. Leading the procession a slow churning barge gleamed with the brass of a high school band. In rows on the wooden deck, the players fidgeted in white chairs. The second river barge chugged along behind. Standing tall in the middle it had a bulky wooden throne, painted gold and draped with craft-shop finery, where the queen herself sat presiding over the celebration.
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Dan The Man

Almost in a glass sphere (set apart from the hectic life) cottonwood fuzz drifts light as air in the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Nature has a gentle sense of humor there. Maybe you’ve seen but didn’t mark it, where stands a quiet place. The house is rustic — a solitary affair with a wraparound porch both airy and deep. A knee high picket fence partitions off a weedy little herb and flower garden.
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The Rule Breaker

It was a Saturday morning. “The coffee maker is not ready,” said one of the old men. Like the others his form was lumpy with layers of cobbled together cold weather wear. Outside there was ice on the steps like a pair of crocodile eyes just off shore and nobody was in a rush to go out there just yet. It was a white room with a dozen men, three couches, and a large screen television flickering with the morning news.
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Never Say Goodbye

Approaching midnight on a smooth stretch of a remote county road, the air was crisp; the stars shining hard and bright. Dash lights glowing warmly Jake’s truck lumbered and loped through a restless idle. Parked on the center line he owned the abandoned road. He stashed a pint bottle under the seat, pressed his mouth to his shirt sleeve, and touched the radio volume up. The cab jangled with a deathless sweet Clementine, the biscuits and gravy of country-western song.
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Drunk Dialing

Itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the water spout… Grace sung softly to herself in the bedroom. In the bathroom the sink counter was littered with crumpled squeeze tubes and scented bottles — all in hygienic disarray. Among this congestion was a fishbowl. Down came the rain and washed the spider out… The fish bowl had a gravel bottom of pink and blue. Standing askew in the middle was planted a red phonebooth in miniature.
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Acuppa-Cuppa

Inside Acuppa-Cuppa, on the corner of Camino Carlos Rey and Rodeo, the cafe glass front looks on a sidewalk patio, the parking lot, and a small dirt island (the home of three aspiring evergreens). Light traffic rolls by and the sky is the flavor blue. Winter has only flirted with Santa Fe and the day is almost balmy. By the door two overstuffed lounge chairs bookend a small table set with a vibrant chrysanthemum.
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Troder Of the Mish'dee Orb

I am giving up on the expression “Awesome!” It is used to an embarrassing automatic degree. I would just as soon use a nothing expression such as “The Cat Was Pleased.” In fact, whenever I find something to my delight (the more transitory the better) but can’t be put to the trouble of elaborating (more or less why), count on my contribution: “The Cat Was Pleased.” Now on with our story.
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Your Name Again

It was a curious experience for Philip Marsh Friday Night when the room began to sway, the colorful decorations and lights blurred, and a thick tongue slurred his speech. It was curious to those around him too, his measured bearing, low-key amiability, suddenly so far out on a jag as to hardly know him. Tonight at the Gala fundraising event, everyone who knew him also knew, in his many years as a public relations man, Philip attended a lot of community events and never did he drink to excess.
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