Meagan Lucas

A Sailor Ashore

Posted by in From My Head (Fiction)

Stepping into her parents house for the first time in five years, Millie could feel the walls vibrating, energy pulsing, lights humming on top of her head. Her bones ached for the peace of her cabin, it’s quiet and dark, the wood and cloth that felt more like the skin of a friend than furniture. Her dad took her coat while she looked for a mat on which to place her big boots. “Oh, we don’t need to take our shoes off,” he said, as she looked with horror at…read more

Flash Fiction Friday: Heat

Posted by in From My Head (Fiction)

Yellow shone through the blinds, his silhouette a black hole in the middle. Hot light poured a puddle on the floor as he stuck his finger between the slats and pulled down. She was naked on the couch, wrapped in the only blanket. If she turned her head just right she could see the v of muscle cutting across his abdomen. She could feel the heat baking the asphalt through the cheap glass. She remembered the tingle of midday rays on her bare shoulders as she’d moved across that parking…read more

Flash Fiction Friday: Fuck You, Warren

Posted by in From My Head (Fiction)

Catherine looked in the mirror and wondered if the red lipstick was too much. So far from her pale pink, she didn’t look like herself. Pressing her lips together, she pushed them out in a pout. She was turned on looking at her own lips, parting them, letting a tiny sliver of wet tongue peek through. Red was something she never wore for Warren, not since they’d been married. Not in ten years. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want her to mark him, thought it cheap. That’s probably why…read more

Flash Fiction Friday: Couch Shopping

Posted by in From My Head (Fiction)

Their tax refund had finally arrived and there were a thousand things he wanted, but she Just. Wanted. A. Fucking. Couch. They’d been sitting on camping chairs for nearly a year now. In the beginning they could pretend it was convenient. Sit wherever you’d like! Even the fabric mesh cup holders were a lovely bonus. Don’t worry about the pooch knocking over your beer! Now, they were an impossible to clean reminder, filled with wet crumbs and dog hair. The chairs were minimally comfortable and noisy. Don’t fucking move! The…read more

Grieving on Paper

Posted by in From My Head (Fiction)

Spring 2015 I lost a friend. Many of you reading this lost him too. When I heard of his passing I felt guilty – there is much that I could have done differently. Then I felt angry – the system failed him. Then I just felt sad, and lost, and so very, very old. It felt like no one here understood. I found myself uncontrollably angry at my father for asking how my friend died. WHAT DOES THAT MATTER? I thought. He’s gone. What does it matter how, or why….read more