wind-tossed hair, road-worn shoe

.this requires an exodus. indeed, my fellow writers keep to the bar. exodus.

.from here, vision set east towards archaic brick, a brilliant wall of electric patterns crackled in cold european night. it was here that he recieved the postcard, under electric castles. .and now, a gloved hand signals an approaching taxi, yellowed body reflected on a London thoroughfare, dim crowds of shadowed suits bathed in its headlights. .inside, blonde leather .aged english, vocals lax from smoking. he wore a hat, dark shape covering a tuff of light grey. "where to, mate?" "station."...

and yes, even now. flash fiction.

.and there, now, amid those endless freeways of twisted blacktop a mechanical music was released a carhorn symphony .brunner never saw the girl courtroom statement pleaded not guilty. .he got 6 years a concrete labyrinth becoming his tomb and from that, his mind. forever. changed. .he pulled contact with a 3rd cousin, mothers side said he knew people that knew people could be of some aide. .with that said, the phonecall ended brunner flew to florida with 96 dollars and a torn Perry Ellis wind...

when you post something, as i am right now, you can select item category. drop down menu, pick its genre blah blah blah. when you do a review, you cant search specific flash fiction. fuck that. bring flash fiction its justice, give it liberty. bring it.

Steves_Sister Subject: One of your reviews did not follow the review guidelines Body: Hey fiction84, Your review of “Wastland” was submitted by it’s creator for us to review. Additionally, it was found to fall short of the review guidelines that all urbis reviews must follow. Because of this, your review has been removed. This is a warning notice, so your credits have not been taken away. In the future, make sure you follow the urbis review guidelines: http://urbis.com/about/review_guideline...

I never edit anything i write. i let the mind go and whatever my fingers type or write or scribble is my piece. a lot of it is shit but there are a few good ones. i promise.

.8:26 PM .he'd been hurried that day, lifes ambitions pressing down. .he had trouble finding time to eat, drink breathe .it was now he could breathe now his mother called perscription fill he got lunch with ryder .the days memories began to fade replacing it was a soft left turn drive way to house. .it'd been a modest little home of brilliant color christmas primaries and easter pastels and the yard cosmic green. he had a white leather couch. vintage store. he had mid 70s Coke ads he had old ...

.deep within, a pulse holds the beat here, now, deep within at the core, the very heart of it all. .the subway train burned past and outside the windows all that Brunner could see were the blurred tones of marketing Pepsi Fuji Honda Sony it was under these that he operated woven with the circuits two become one .and now, exiting the train, he can once again feel Shinjuku, its culture. [he knows now that he is home, he is at peace] .before him, dull eyes contained behind greasy glass a cage of...