Tag: Flash Fiction

I. Warm vanilla and Queen Helene. Silky, yet rough, gliding against him with profound ease as long painted fingernails scraped his back. They weren’t like the ones he usually saw on women, with intricate designs and beads. These were long, imperfect nails with red varnish that commanded him to surrender. And ... Read More

I heard Quinn’s voice in my left ear while browsing tables at the annual library book sale. She was a friend of a friend of my wife’s. I’d met her only twice before, both times at parties, and hadn’t spoken more than a few words to her. I’d noticed her ... Read More

“'Is it bad that this kind of headline – ‘Great White Shark with Red Mouth Washes Up on Beach in Rare Incident’ – is what gets me through the day?' I ask my sister...." by Elizabeth Rosen ... Read More

“What is your favorite color?” Cora asked, partially wrapped in twisted sheets ... Read More

I am in pain. I am from an ethnically ambiguous background, an underrepresented community, and my mom was an immigrant from the Middle East. I mean, she is an immigrant. She’s not dead, but she did emigrate to France when she was seven. That’s still trauma. Trauma that passes down from ... Read More

The water is cold against my bellybutton and I’m afraid a waterborne parasite will swim up my urethra. I cup a hand over my crotch. I’d never have thought a pond could feel threatening, but Bruce, Olivia, and Belle aren’t fazed—they’re grinning at the few hundred yards of water rolling ... Read More

There was almost no way to get money. Fay, the Cat Lady, sometimes had a returnable Coke bottle or two to give away if I asked—the large size, twenty cents deposit each. Allowance was seventy-five cents a week, enough for a few candy bars, but I did the math: it ... Read More

My wife told me she was going out with Ashley, Kelly, and Courtney, that she’d be getting some drinks, doing some dancing, that she wouldn’t be home late, “… unless I’m home late!” I said no problem and I’d see her when she got home, that I’d wait up. I ... Read More

“Lunch with the Astronaut of the Day,” the sign said.  Adult:  $100, child: $50, 11:30 and 1:45.  Mirian signed up for the 11:30 slot.... Shanda Connolly ... Read More

She—some folks called her Jill—used to buy love at the shopping mall, but then all the malls died. She probably died, too, but she still went love-shopping ... Read More

I had the pleasure of hearing John Madera read from his debut flash fiction collection, Nervosities at the KGB Bar in NYC a few weeks ago. Enjoying "Some Varieties of Being and other Non Sequiturs," the first story in the collection of innovative, word-bending flash fiction released by Anti-Oedipus Press ... Read More

Eckleburg: What drives, inspires, and feeds your artistic work? Rion Amilcar Scott: Restlessness, boredom, Wu-Tang, insecurity, debt, my characters, injustice, my vision, energy drinks, my son, competition, Diaz, Ellison, Morrison...there's a million other things. Eckleburg: If you had to arm wrestle a famous writer, poet or artist, either living or ... Read More

A man jumps off a cliff. I’m gonna need some wings, he thinks. He reaches into his backpack to get some things — wood, nails, a hammer, some string — and then gets down to work building. That ground is coming up awful fast, he thinks, I’d better work a ... Read More

No one loved time like Milton Chesterfield. He loved dates, regardless of what events they marked. He loved all the times of day: dusk and dawn, noon and midnight. He loved the weeks and the months, especially the leap-year fluctuations of February. He loved minutes and he loved all of the ... Read More