Flash Fiction

"frost etchings on the virgin glass"

The window has snow in the awnings and frost etchings on the virgin glass. It is Friday on the 8th of January in the year of our Lord 1734. A few notes from my stream of consciousness ramblings.

I went to see Händel’s latest attempt at the theatre and I must say, in all honesty, it has some finest moments, taken from Orlando Furioso. Perhaps some novelist will update the whole poem to modern English with a Woolfish updating of the nonlinear plot. Who is to say? -JJ.