Tannille

Flash Fiction: Roswell

Is it a bird, is it a plane? No, it’s an unidentified flying object. Let’s shoot the crap out of

Silence. Water smothered their surroundings. A faint silver line separated the blue coming from the sky and the rippled liquid

Ice covered the bench just as it tombed Sarah’s heart. As the seasons changed her husband suffered an agonising death.

Out of her dirty car window, she saw the house demolished. She waited for relief to hit her, making

The spinner of fate looked at her collection of threads; completed, wrapped around their reel. Life over. Such a shame.

Knock, knock. Hello God are you there? No? The knob isn’t warm. Must be safe to enter. A kid peers

Life in a tank is pretty funky. No predators only fish droppings to turn the gills green. Don’t swallow, you’ll