by Mileva Anastasiadou I’d hate Tuesdays if it weren’t for you. Tuesdays are boring until five, when you arrive. Mom thinks I deserve better, yet mom doesn’t count, for that’s what moms always say. The clock’s ticking, she’ll say next, which doesn’t sound as threatening as she’d like, as what comes to mind is that huge clock on the wall, Read More
Tag: flash fiction
What Are the Odds?
by E. F. S. Byrne John bumped into a stranger, his head falling onto her shoulder. She shrugged him off. The rattle of carriages filled his ears, swamped his mind, blotted out memories, thoughts, imagination, leaving him with the ceaseless rumble of lives shuttling from one station to the next, squeezing in and out of electronic doorways, minding gaps, diving Read More
Through the Glass
by Lucy Zhang Everyone lives in a glass box; he calls himself their keeper. The slightly curved glass panes extend up and around them, leaving the Munro’s Globemallow peeking from the side of the walkways and the freshly cut grass and artificial hills in plain view. Sometimes he imagines what they see: can they distinguish the Beaked Yucca from Aztec Read More
IVF
by Anuja Ghimire Agnes left the prayer hall before the pianist returned to her seat and the happy people who stood up to applaud the middle-aged woman noticed. She needed to wash the baby’s face from her eyes. Sharon had carried him like a prize. He wiggled his feet near the sparkling water, looked at Agnes, and smiled. And Sharon Read More
Hibernation
by William Falo With gear packed and a rifle strapped to my back, I headed to mountain lion country in the snow-covered hills. It wasn’t long before my muscles ached. Dark clouds formed on the horizon after I huffed and puffed up the first hill. The approaching storm looked worse than they predicted. At the summit of the hill, I Read More
To me you are,
by Narmadhaa Sivaraja (N) Have you ever washed a coffee plunger? The jug is the easy part. The filter, however, is a wet mess of clingy dregs that’ve made their way into the tiniest of pores, overstaying their welcome like guests who’d muddied your carpets, who’d forgotten what cleanup meant, or how to spot the puddles of molten wax on Read More
Uncle
by Ross Jeffery The carpet’s rough. Its bristly nibs bite into my skin. Can’t breathe, my father splayed out on top of me, his full weight baring down, choking the oxygen from my lungs. Muscles burn, cramp throttles my calf, a snake coiling around a tree trunk. But still he pushes me to the carpet. Sweat covers us. We are Read More
Squirrels
by B F Jones Squirrels. Rendered malevolent by the distortion of a cubist dream. A murky forest, somewhat tilted, humidity emanating from the ground, dark trees towering above. And the squirrels. Their rustling. Their twitchy accusing stare, ridding me of sleep. Night after night, trying to understand the sudden fear, trying to remember. – Those squirrels, do they do Read More
The Last Waltz
by Steven John We found each other late in life, in the most fateful way. Two lonely people. Paths crossed. ‘The Last Waltz’ she called us. I’d meet her off the train once a month. We’d go to the station hotel for tea and toast to settle jittery tummies. I carried something stronger in a hipflask but she never needed Read More
Fret
My obligations pile up faster than I can deal with them, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. Although I don’t sweat, I can feel my hot spots revving into high gear. My pulse is racing, and I want either a mud bath or a huge bunch of bananas. You can’t fight instinct sometimes. Personal comfort has to Read More