May 8, 2023

Tumbling

By Kathryn Silver-Hajo
Photo by photos_by_ginny on Pexels.com

When Norm started to tumble, one by one his friends fell away. Mister Storm Cloud, some said. Prefers his rabbit hole others declared. Tara knew they didn’t get it, found a way to tumble with him while tethered to a blooming cherry tree, hopeful they’d spring back up together someday.

About the Author

Kathryn Silver-HajoKathryn Silver-Hajo is a 2023 Pushcart Prize, Best Small Fictions, and Best American Food Writing nominee. Her stories appear or are forthcoming in Atticus Review, The Citron Review, CRAFT, Emerge Literary Journal, New Flash Fiction Review, Pithead Chapel, Ruby Literary, and others. Kathryn’s flash collection Wolfsong and novel Roots of The Banyan Tree are forthcoming in 2023. She reads for Fractured Lit. More at: kathrynsilverhajo.com; twitter.com/KSilverHajo; instagram.com/kathrynsilverhajo

Related Flash
paintbrush on surface

The Interruption

By Cheryl Snell

“The image I had almost captured is severed. The ink scrapes dry. My thoughts are caught in the tumble of spun sugar in my brain. It melts and it sticks.”

black upright piano next to a brown leather padded chair

My Father Singing

By Jeff Friedman

“Most evenings, my father sang in his chair in the living room, even though he often didn’t know the words to the songs he was singing. He’d hum the melody or sing nonsense syllables to replace the words.”

Three black balloons

No Clapping

By Sean Ennis

“Today the class was told, no clapping! It is simply too loud, and there isn’t that much to celebrate. The sound baffles match our school colors, but they are ineffective. The antique windows rattle with applause. If you came here to be congratulated, I’ve got news for you. But if you came here, you’re in the right place.”

Pin It on Pinterest

Your Impossible Voice
Kathryn Silver-Hajo
paintbrush on surface
black upright piano next to a brown leather padded chair
Three black balloons
Share This