And the Editors’ Choice Is… “1987” by Christopher Ramsey Congratulations to Christopher! Secret Prize If you don’t know about our weekly book giveaway, now is a good time to know about it. I buy one lucky reader a book every single week…it’s pretty simple stuff. You just have to check your email… Get Flash Fiction…
Writing Contest - Issue 16
Beasts of Burden
By Jeffrey A. Paolano
Tensil squats at the fire, sipping tea, observing the mikaru, all those not Sherpa, waiting patiently to fill his rice bowl by humping goods up the savage mountain. The cackling radio speaks, “Waxworth here, serac collapse, four climbers down, require Sherpas, over.” Darnell, company manager, replies, “will execute, roger.” As Sirdar, Tensil Sherpa proposes, “Eight…
The Grove
By Craig McGeady
The grove had once been a sculpted marvel. Now, discarded it was falling to ruin. At its heart sits a broken ring of stones. A well: split and scattered, pried apart by weeds, covered in moss, painted in ceaseless shadow. Amongst the decay is a traveller, lost in exploration: a dragonfly. A flit of movement…
Try Again
By Gerald Kamens
He buys a supermarket bouquet and, pecking her cheek, gives it to his wife. After he goes to work the next morning, she throws it in the trashcan. He buys white roses from a subway vendor and gives them, with a hug, to his wife. The couple stand silent in the living room. Again, once…
Always in Fashion
By Liz Milne
In the year 2035, a fad started in which people got themselves tattooed with the names of all their lovers. Down their backs predominantly, easily visible thanks to the scanty fashions of this time. Some people take the trend as a challenge and work hard to have their list touch their buttocks and spill over…
Barbara
By Donald Hubbard
This dead girl was christened Barbara, a name parents never consider today, but fifty years ago Barbara was a common name. Like Caitlyn. We mourned her and girls like her who attended college in the city, only to be raped and murdered. The last time I saw Barbara alive, we had played records and talked about our…
Strike Two
By The Bret M.W.
He worried with his fingernails. “Well, yes, I kind of know her…” “Please continue,” the prosecutor said. “It was summer… She was the first exciting thing in six years going to that park. We fed the pigeons… I always brought popcorn… Is she still blonde? Beautiful lips? It’s been so long.” His eyes smiled. “We met…