I plan to resume my magazine quest with a new post tonight or tomorrow, but I thought I’d post something short this morning since I’ve been away from the blog for a while. I recently read a flash fiction story at CS Boyack’s site, a few lines of which reminded me of a microfiction I’d written while living in Catfish City:
There are a handful of good smells in any city, like baking bread and grilling meat. But, for every good one, there are a thousand bad ones. Vehicles stink from diesel fumes, scorched oil, and burning rubber. People stink from body odor, bad breath, and flatulence. Even the streets stink from rotting garbage which sat too long, the vomit and urine of late-night drunks, and waste left behind by lazy dog-walkers … and that, my son, is why werewolves live in the forest.