by Nolcha Fox Lady with the Red Scarf at the Countdown Diner Did I misinterpret our eye contact? Sunday evening, Countdown Diner, you alone drinking wine, me with my back to you and the mirror in front of me, made eye contact several times. Don’t want to be misunderstood. Kicking myself for not saying anything to you. You have a Read More
Tag: flash fiction
Mourning Routine
by ShivaRJoyce I was always the one to wake first. Some early, ungodly hour. It wasn’t because I was a so-called morning person but more that I loathed sleep for robbing me of my day and time. Some mornings the air still had a frosty chill to it that hadn’t been there the evening before. Boiling water on the gas Read More
How to Be a Writer
by Bojana Stojcic You’ll bet me 50 bucks there’s some deep shit at the core of my next story, right? Well, kind of. My initial thought was to write about a heavy snowfall that made my travel impossible or I wish I could tell you how lonely I am while the logs crackle and pop in the fireplace and such, Read More
The Drone Pilot
by William Falo I guided the drone toward the three fox kits. There was no sign of the mother. I snapped a lot of photos then directed it back toward me until I saw someone looking up at the drone. Flying a drone in a national park was illegal. The fines steep. My hands shook and the woods began to Read More
Evolved Elephants
by Hibah Shabkhez “Elephants never do homework.” “Elephants never wear mittens.” “Elephants never wash their—” “What’s going on here?” I asked, taking in the gigantic baby-pink elephant freshly taped to the fridge, and the other, even larger one which was being filled in with a concentration and vigour only a six-year-old artist could possess. “After mermaids, dolphins and seagulls, the Read More
Explainable Earthquakes
by Tammy L. Breitweiser The fancy folding chairs are arranged in soldier rows facing the front. A movie theater of grief; only one showing. All sounds are muffled like there are bunnies lining the walls. Low music plays distinctive to a funeral home. You never hear it anywhere else. To describe it becomes impossible and lives in the same fog Read More
Our Celestial Dance
by Karen Walker Moonrise as he turns in the driveway. The old Chevy’s headlights scan the bedroom wall, a lunar landscape scarred by everyone who’s rented this shabby place. Down the hallway, the bathroom nightlight is a weak little star. It fades as he closes the door—damn toilet will run on and on—and then reappears as if clouds passed by. Read More
‘Til Death Do Us Part
by Suzanne Craig-Whytock Last week, Sparrow turned to me suddenly and said, “When you die, what do you want me to do with you?” We were watching TV together, cozy under a blanket, his arm around my shoulders. I laughed in surprise, a little taken aback, and answered, “Honey, aren’t you jumping the gun?” He smiled sweetly and said, “You Read More
After Retirement
by Eisuke Aikawa (translated by Toshiya Kamei) “Oh, I never imagined it’d be so popular,” the man formerly known as Great Might waves off the interviewer’s comment. Blessed with superhuman strength, he could crush an apple with one hand. In his youth, he made a name for himself as a sumo wrestler. However, a knee injury sustained in the ring Read More
October in California
by Abigail Stewart I. The sky was a lurid orange when Cara awoke. Her television set had turned to static overnight and the alien sun bathed her furniture in a thick ointment of russet light. Somewhere an alarm sounded, relentless and impatient. She rose, ran the water at her kitchen tap. Nothing but a sad trickle, then air. Her mouth Read More