Flash Fiction: Fuck Cancer

In the other room, her mother lay dying.

Cancer.

It always seemed to be cancer.

Aurelia thumped down onto the toilet seat, lid down, and perched on it staring into space for what felt like fifteen minutes but might as well have been fifteen seconds.

Cancer.

Fuck cancer.

She ran her fingers as far through her tangled hair as she could, not wanting to see the gaunt face that would gaze back at her if she looked in the mirror.

She could hear the breathing machine from here; it almost sounded like the sea; great lungs opening and closing; the benediction of water.

She heaved herself to her feet, resolving to be stronger, to take this better; to turn her focus again away from herself and on to what was needed.

She hesitated in front of her mother’s bedroom door which was slightly ajar. The light was crystalline. She peered in at her mother. The light was crystalline. All there was in the air was the breathing machine. Aurelia exhaled, and knew it was over.


I wrote this for Angela Goff’s VisDare: she posts up a picture, you write something in response. You can check it out here if you want. Highly recommended for you visual thinkers!

I hope you enjoyed this piece. If you participate in VisDare yourself, leave a link in the comments! 🙂

What Hemingway Has Taught Us About Writing

I don’t like the works of Ernest Hemingway. There are many reasons but that’s a whole other post (on a whole other blog).

What I’m focusing on here is how the man wrote: apparently he wrote about 500 words a day, every day.

Let’s think about that for a minute. Continue reading “What Hemingway Has Taught Us About Writing”