Six Last Sentences from Short Fiction Pieces (ala Cita, Gita, et. al.)

[Toby Tucker Hecht]

1. The stain didn’t look like tea—it looked like blood—but she didn’t want to know one way or the other—ever; she sat down on the chair and began to rock.

2. Most of the houses were dark, but every now and then I saw a flickering of blue light from a television in an upstairs room; I wondered what show the person was watching, and whether she was watching alone.

3. She wondered if he was standing in the doorway, watching them; she wanted to turn around, but she didn’t.

4. But it was much, much longer before he could move from where he stood, staring out the window into the early spring night, thinking about all he had failed to consider.

5. A warm, comforting breeze blew through the woods as I cuddled my golden-haired doll and rocked her, back and forth, back and forth, until my clothes dried out in the mid-May heat, until the pain subsided.

6. After a long period of mourning, our household got back to normal in every way, except that one in a while, when my parents weren’t paying attention, I’d sneak into the pantry and open a can of sardines, not to eat, just to sniff.

[Toby Tucker Hecht]

@Teresa--Thank you so much for your support.  None of those stories were published online.  Each (except #4) was in a small literary magazine, mostly associated with a college. 

[Teresa]

So intriguing, especially #'s 4 and 5 for me.  I wish you'd post links around here when you've got something online to read.  Since I'm asking for it, it's not shameless self-promotion, ya know?  Your stories have always been strong.  You've got the fiction edge, whatever brain space that conjures realistic lives and people that never really were.  I just don't have that space, not much of one anyway.  Always in awe of you guys.