Hey, Celia—please don't delete this message.
I sent you comments on the outline of your Shakespeare presentation; I hope they're useful. (I do try.)
About my Hitchcock presentation: everyone in ...
House on the Hill by Peter Beynon
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
Nights he sat in a concrete box of an apartment on Ventura Boulevard, watching his war in silent black and white on a ten-inch television screen, a disembodied eye on a pressed-wood dresser.
Days he took ...
Pornography-1968 by Wayne Karlin
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
My head had become a drummed-upon thing. A man in the road bends to it and prods a pain on top. I hear a noise from the man that in my better days I could have determined to be a worrisome noise, yet the man says, There ...
A CAULKING by Justin Noga
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
Leah will you cook me latkes? she says in the morning. We’re naked, staring out the window at houseboats vacated for winter. Regan is from Texas, where there isn’t much Hanukkah just Honk for Jesus parades. I buy ...
Shamash by Chloe Weiss
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
I used to date this girl who would put on sunscreen every night before bed. At first I thought it was just lotion, but the smell was unmistakable, that slightly chemical, almost-sand almost-chlorine scent, and the ...
Sunscreen by Erini Sappho Katopodis
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
Mother is weaving a net on the ceiling made of sailors’ rope. She braids, knots, and untangles, muttering instructions from a maritime book she found in Granddaddy’s collection. It will be sturdy and beautiful, she ...
Water by Alison Jean Kinney
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
You make a list of the things you can’t afford: name brand anything, soda, bar soap, you get all your cleaning products at the Dollar Tree—which only recently started pricing products at $1.25. Still, you tell your ...
Death, and Other Things You Can’t Afford by Kendra Pintor
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
Tony is driving straight at the flames we can see a mile away. Grinding the gears, clutching too rough. He’s not saying anything, and I don’t ask. He’s gripping the wheel with his hairy knuckles like it’s gonna ...
Burn It Down by Kevin Wood
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
He calls me when he’s fucked up. It can have a cinematic flare, like when he climbed to the top of a hill somewhere out in Arkansas to get phone service, but it’s usually when he’s driving and trying to stay ...
Secret Storm by Sally West
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
