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Two Flash Fiction Pieces From Jelena Vencl Ohlrogge

Metamorphoses

Jeff was looking at a tiny cockroach in his living room. The cockroach was looking back at Jeff with its Parisian blue eyes.

Jeff thought he was dreaming, because roaches do not have blue eyes. Or, do they? Jeff was trying to fill his blank thoughts with something. Anything. He was holding his breath, frozen in time, hesitating to stomp on the roach.

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The Streets By Jason Michel

It started in the streets. Doesn’t everything ?
Revolutions. Pop culture. Real change.
In the pavement cracks. Widening. A concrete gash. People tripping. Stubbed toes. Scuffed leather boots. Grandmothers with broken legs.
Tarmac bending. Tyres screeching. Airbags unleashed.
Fibres pushing through pavements. That mad green fuse.
We tried to trim them. Yet every cut brought a tougher tendril. Vines pierced fundaments. Entwined lamp posts. Buildings creaked under the creeping onslaught. As they fell we all saw the blossoms in the dust clouds.Opening buds. Spewing airborne seeds from coast to cold coast.