http://slow.writerscafe.org/Broadie%20Thornton The original writings of author Hawksmoor en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775962602 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 (Flash Fiction) 101 words, necessary words, "Heat" & "Summer". Thoughts? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/588984/ “I got a letter in the mail today reminding me that I’ll be dead in two days. Apparently, something mean, green, and from the deepest depths of space is going to turn up on my front porch and beat me to death.”Sissy drew on the bright red Crazi-Straw, (which twisted onto itself.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/410182/ The canker sore was winning the battle. Hess couldn’t remember a time in his sixty-plus years when he’d felt more pissed. To make it through World War II, two heart attacks, three b***h wives, (who had all made it apparent right from the very start of things that they were after his mill.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/410181/ This was a couple of days ago.I watched the big man move through the hedge on the right side of the massive house as silently as a wildcat, his broad shoulders hunched, his head lowered, his left hand opening and closing with an obscene anticipation. The angular thing that the man held in his ri.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/410176/ Bit 1 Hello, gentle reader. I’ve got a word or two for you. Yes.YOU.When I was a kid, my mom, an often harsh and jaded woman, taught me what I suspect to be the three most important lessons I’ll ever learn as long as I walk the strange course of this life.1.  &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/406098/ I’ve just now finished watching The Secret Garden for the first time in over a decade and a half, and you know what? I love it as much now as I did then, there in my back row seat in Mrs. Brewington's dark and silent classroom. I remember glancing at the teacher at the end of the film, and tho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/403351/ It's 10 o'clock at night in the city of Denver. I'm sitting in the bucket seat of a black truck with my brother, he's behind the wheel, on the side of a dark and silent highway. My brother is an obnoxious b*****d who has feet that smell like rotting onions, and a mouth that opens and releases curses.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/403341/   “Now, there’s a good girl,” whispered that rough, contemptuously hateful voice, It was like glass against the eardrum.“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not so bad, is it?” It was a voice created to fit within a mouth sheltered by a ridi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/397222/  http://www.evoca.com/myrecordings/recBlogForIFrame.jsp?rid=184902"               I chose to SKIP the subsequent formal EdThe solutions in my head world-fed, all green and red, with enough time forsaking being.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/393351/    “You fellas aint gonna believe this, but you know, I think that fine b***h who works at the Mall cheated me outta five whole bucks.” The young man who said this was at the moment a tall, dark-skinned storm of fury and contorted rage. This young man had a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/387145/ There was a loud bang and a flash of unearthly orange light, the sound like that of a gun vomiting its cleansing fire into the atmosphere, followed by a thud and a grunt.  “See?” a voice said from within a mist that had settled upon the room that the two of them stood in. That i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/387141/ Seminal understanding in terms of individual view of microcosm and macrocosm, well, that�s perspective, isn�t it? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/386224/ “I swear to you, when I saw the bag on the bus bench, when I picked it up, I had no idea what was in it.”  The black woman in the black slack and blue blouse combo shuddered as her face fell in on itself like a disturbed cake. Her hands went to her forehead, and with a gutt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/385026/ The thrust of a hand, the turn of a wrist, and the creak of a lithe neck, and the pair of them are ready.“I’m in my business suit,” the somewhat obese woman in the plain orange jumpsuit says. “It looks like a prison jumpsuit, which means that my work will be done on two l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/378991/  WHATEVER  “I once knew a man who claimed that no man is an island in and of himself, or some such s**t. Anyway, it may sound like a line of new age feel-good s**t, but I think it’s true. Look at me. A wife, two beautiful kids, a goddamn dog that walks on her hind .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/376439/ Aliens birthed and taught to be human and what it means to be human. Eventually, even the dumbest of us catches on. Adulthood comes and with it comes the certainty that we've never been anything but human. But the truth is you, me, all of us, were born into this world completely malleable t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/360369/ For my little brother, my Fat Cubby, Jorge. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/340462/     21st November, 1943 Oh s**t, how am I gonna do this? Will she be proud of me for doing this? I hope so. I hope she'll be proud of me. Here goes. I experienced something strange and scary three nights ago. I’d have written it down as soon as I got home, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/332825/ The assailant, whose name was Edwin Thompson, was hurled from the site of a particularly horrific mass murder in the most squalid hell hole of Darfur to the end of a cul-de-sac called Amber Lane, where his eyes fell upon a stooped man in faded overalls who walked with a listless and sligh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/332363/  In time, Tattoo, Old, and Fat left Colonial Way behind. Old sniggered and cocked a thumb back at the sidewalk that the three of them had overtaken. “It’s been ate up by the cold and the wind,” he said, his thumb hanging in the air over his shoulder. “Like som.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/331468/   Fat rubbed his stomach and smiled into the dry and dreary day, his teeth even and brilliant under the rays of the scarcely visible sun. “I think I ate too much,” he said. He burped and wiped a hand across his mouth. “You always think you eat too much,&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/330648/  “You, you, and you,” said the bus driver in a deep voice, pointing at the rear-view mirror above his head, “this is your stop.” The trio of people who sat at the very back of the bus against the throbbing, hot hum of the engine behind the thin plastic of thei.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/325970/ She watched me with countless eyes Out lids, through lids Peering in all directions at once Through smog (nutrient rich) and around dizzying mounds of her multicolored and aged to perfection flesh Her eyes watched me as I walked her long legs and lithe arms Full breasts and wet lips Wide.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/321929/ Folks don’t think of epiphany waves rocking the foundation of a seat with a banging, money shot view While grass green/ suede brown mallards coast by, filtering life from murky depths for brunch People might laugh at the idea of actual new schools of thought arriving as rednecks in furry h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/321927/ There were lights and sounds and smells and, oh f**k, there was THE COLD, too. “Lookit that,” the tall man said, pointing a long, shaking finger. The man was pointing at a box that sat in the doorway of an old unused storefront. The box, tall, wide, and thin, had black workshop t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/321925/  “You’re no phlebotomist,” the wild-eyed, pale-haired woman said, snatching her wrist from within the cool grip of a strong dark hand. Her eyes flashed through the thick lenses of her glasses. There were formless grease smears on both lenses, but the woman see.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/318443/   The pair of them walked down Kastor Avenue hand-in-hand, each in tune with the other’s gait.  Neither of them noticed the jet-black Cadillac edging along at a snail’s pace behind them. “Your mother can’t stand me, but that’s ok,” .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/316215/   The ancient woman (Queen of Henderson Manor to most) in the high-backed chintz chair cackled and threw a wild stare in the pudgy man’s direction. The man, who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, scowled at the woman. This would be easy. He had long since stopped seeing this w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/315865/ Let's dig it up, shall we? Let's follow the blazing trail to the Land Beyond The Curtain Call, huh? For Rob. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/312896/  “Must you talk to yourself when you do that, Pam? You sound like an old Bond villain.” There was a low snort that didn’t escape Pam’s notice. The woman noticed everything but her own noxious body odor. “Where is your cell phone, Jimmy?” a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/308227/ 1. “Run, run, as fast as you can, you can’t escape me, I’m the LottoOddMan!” The voice that said this was bizarrely high. Walter Wendt ran for his life through the dark and twisting corridors of the godforsaken Palace of Conquest as LottoOddMan screamed laughter f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/306893/    There was the sound of a paradise bird's rough chirrup and then there was a spitting-mad black Mamba sliding out of the light blue cell phone screen. Randy dropped the phone with an ear-splitting shriek, turned, and ran for his life. The Mamba glided down the crack.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/305905/    The troup of frustrated, not to mention disgusted, soldiers pounded over the squashy terrain that seemed to be the whole of the thick Peruvian jungle. Many of the men in the company were silent as they ran but for harsh puffs followed by loud gasps, but a few of them swore ev.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/304917/  Who was she? Who was this woman in the everyday, slack-jawed freefall through life? She sat across from me on the number 28 bus on the crawl down grubby inner city streets that were shifted thin by carelessly parked vehicles on both sides. Close to my neck of the woods.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/299442/ A curtain of black rain fell upon the aged and dingy metropolis that had given birth to me one evening in the spring of late '72.  A rolling, writhing carpet of dust, cigarette butts, and Broadway ticket stubs ate up worn cement and filled tire eating potholes. I cowered beneath my.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/299401/ The woman sat down in the chair behind the man with his nose buried in a drab horror anthology. She sat in an unoccupied seat that had moments before been occupied by a boy in his mid-teens who could've been her younger brother. "I was sitting there," said the boy f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/299397/    "A Llama must understand the intricate possibilities of life after life, my son," said the somber woman with the determined eyes. Hers was the face of one forced to choke down bitter medicine for the greater good. A somber face, but a good face.&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/299390/  My cousin looked at me and grinned, his teeth smoke-stained and slick with saliva. He had fucked my girlfriend of two years in the back seat of my uncle's ancient, beat-to-hell Gremlin two nights ago on a drunken dare, but somehow it seemed appropriate to him to show me a grin after.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/299382/      I'm an artist. I make a decent living selling my paintings at a small gallery in Greenwich Village. You know something? Most of my work is sold on rainy days to snooty businesspeople with no idea of what the art is actually about. You may thi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/298925/  Five minutes. That's how long it'll take the horde of pigs to pop the heavy-duty locks and break the door down and drag me from this storage room with a new set of baton-shaped tattoos to show to my girlfriend the next time I'm in rural Oslo.  Five minutes to writ.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/298867/   “Water,” said the woman as she forced a cold glass into the man’s trembling hand. On her face was a look of mingled pity and disgust. Her eyes traveled up and down what there was of the man’s frame that could be seen through the sheets that covered him, whiski.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/291621/  A pair of boots up a rickety set of stairs in the evening's shadows.Critch.Critch.Critch.A man's deep and sad sigh fell into the world, and then came the sharp tap of the nearly lifeless.Three times.Knock.Knock.Knock. The door set into the front of the house in th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/291617/  The voices of consciousnessThey will one day speak“You did it, but you failed making it count.”“More than enough time, but not nearly enough push or courage.”“It takes more than dreaming to set a dream in motion.” These voicesThey may we.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/282601/ How should I know where this came from? I just listen to the voices in my head. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/282329/ Lou Gehrig's Disease.The familiar man in the long and pretentious white coat, who also wore thick and comical spectacles, used what I assumed to be his most measured voice to tell me that I had Lou Gehrig's Disease. It was a voice that could have just as easily been used to discuss the outc.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/281066/ Pick up the phone. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/275700/ Who would've ever thought that world warfare would take a turn for the ridiculously horrific in the 21st Century?Little Boy and Fat Man poured terror and death upon Hiroshima in 1945 to the tune of a President's words."We won the race of discovery against the Germans."The absol.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/275265/ I saw this show the other night that pissed me off beyond words, you see... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/272702/  What happened to this place? It isn't, BY A LONG SHOT, even a shadow of its former self. Where's the life and the light? Where are the manic and insane collabs day in and day out? Where's the community? I've belonged to this site for more than two years, now. Over the last year, I'v.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/272424/   I brushed my palm across dry cacti todayAnd there they were,The weltsPerforming in lined flesh like irritated pathways to individual alternate historiesPersonal in nature, purposefulEtched there amid the strange twisting waltz of Life and DeathIn the palm of my handRunn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Broadie-Thornton/263696/