I think about other Native people who may read that piece and can, through the piece, feel a connection to those lands...feel that they are there.
The Drive to the Crematorium
On the drive to the crematorium, I think I make peace with your death.
Last Snowfall
It is Earth’s final snowfall / and everyone is here.
Forget the Line Breaks
Did he think about telling me that summer, when there was nothing but us and the truck and the highway for miles? Maybe not, didn't want to ruin it all.
A Case for “the surreal and the strange”: Interview with Anna Vangala Jones, Sudden Fiction Guest Judge and Author of Turmeric & Sugar
When I picture a flash fiction story done well, a story that's getting so much across in this tiny space, I imagine a little snow globe or something that's bursting with how much is going on inside it.
How To Make Good Stock
You keep the bones. I learned this as a girl, cleaning after a chicken dinner.
Homecoming
I was just taking some time off, I told myself. From college. But more and more it felt like from life.
Bless Me Father
The little bird’s so still, just looking up at me with those robin eyes, just staring like it sees what’s deep inside me, like it’s stunned by the horror of it. I think that’s when I begin to understand: sin’s damn personal.
Solstice
The baby is so small, lying there on the changing table. If she fell she would surely break, maybe die. The woman repeats this: I cannot let you die, baby. I cannot let you die.
A Flash of Lightning and Heartbreak: Interview with Ashley Hutson, Sudden Fiction Guest Judge & Author of One’s Company
I feel like when you write flash, you're giving something to the reader, like an electric shock.
BERKELEY FICTION REVIEW 