My website…

where flash fiction based upon WeirdBook Facebook posts goes to die. Or was it Weird Tales? I can never keep them apart. My child never came home. I remember the last day I saw her. I remember the shirt she wore. I remember struggling it over her shoulders. I remember the debate, pink pony, purple…

She’ll look down as she’s looking up

I don’t have a step child, but if I did I imagine the conversation would go something like this: “Hi, kid. I’m not your biological parent.” “That much is obvious. By the way, your Alexandrine is awkward and the syllables don’t quite line up.” I look down at my boyfriend’s baby. She probably is going…