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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
a rather fanciful description of a/some/all(?) small towns

Submitted: May 14, 2011

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Submitted: May 14, 2011



the cities rush by in a blur of light and gas stations, some so small they seem to hover on the brink of implosion, like if you laugh as you hasten through you would miss them entirely, the kind of town you stop in only if you absolutely have to, before leaving as quickly as you came, on your way to the fair, where the giant slides and ferris wheels and candy corn and automobile raffles will allow you to forget about those sad little towns where the only thing to do on the weekend is fish, towns so small they don't ev-en have their own fire station or library and you have to wait for the book mobile to come through twice a month with the same old books that you've read three times alr-eady- bad romance novels, picture books about bears having picnics, oliver twist, how to win friends and influence people- and everyone works at the gas station, or the wal-mart six miles up the road, or doesn't work at all, which is more likely, given the state our economy is in, and everyone is a registered republican and thought that bush was just the best thing since sliced bread, except the hippies who moved there because taxes are low and live on the outskirts- if there can be such a thing in a town whose size is roughly equal to that of a sardine in the vast wide ocean, drifting along all on your lonesome, never meeting anyone, no one ever meeting you, merely crossing paths, exchanging a shifty sort of smile and moving on, to forget about the whole affair until you do meet someone, who just happens to be a large and very hungry fish, and you see your life flash before your eyes and you remember- oh, yes!- and that is your last thought before you slide slip fall tumble melt dive roll into obscurity

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