The ramps by Midpark were flooded and now the loons thought they could make their homes anywhere. John-Mark and I had visited his side of the family in Manila, and the flight back was turbulent. We were watching that ...
Covenant by Mason Koa
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
Dedicated to Tortuguita*
What if it was not Icarus who flew too high? Perhaps, instead, it was Daedalus who arced ever-upward, broad wings beating, too entranced by his own creation to turn around. Higher he went, ...
Sun Rise by Zack Fox Loehle
Flash Fiction
There is a place in Ellen’s right big toe where she keeps her opinions on her mother. Sealed shut. Nail-chipped, ball-stubbed, doubly calloused, she wears socks most of the time.
In her ...
Ellen by Rya Vallabhaneni
Flash Fiction
I got a new smell. It’s oily, leathered, minklike. It turns heads on the bus, clears whole cars on the train. Most times it walks five paces ahead. I follow it into any number of restaurants or bars, sliding past ...
New Smell by Eric Cecil
Flash Fiction
“Mom.”
“Mom.”“Mom!”“Momma, look!”“Mom!“Look, Momma!”“Look!”
My coffee will never be strong enough. I stir the pancake mix while the pan heats. A little bowl of concrete. The morning ...
You’re Gonna Miss It by Jen Eve Thorn
Flash Fiction
There was Christmas; there was Venice. Both arrived too late for us. The word, alluvione, meant flood but sounded less frightening, and—like everything in this country—it ran precipitously off our tongues. Then it ...
Alluvione by Vincent James Perrone
Flash Fiction
I play jelly-jounce to the flag of the United Stetson America, one, two, three, rip-ugly-four witch: it stands, one Asian, other gods invisible, with rubber teeth and just this for all.
The kindergarten room ...
KINDERGARTEN by Kyoko Uchida
Flash Fiction
Honey, it’s too tight. Let’s try a larger one.
It’s fine, mom.
No, it’s not, sweetie. You need a larger one. Look, see how tight it is.
They don’t have a larger one.
Are ...
Back-to-School Barbie by Donald A. Ranard
Flash Fiction
They want to wash you first, but I can’t wait. I’m greedy for you. You smell bone-broth soupy. I tell them how bears lick their babies clean. How grass-eaters do this too. I wonder if it’s the only time they taste ...
Well met by Dominic Reed
Flash Fiction
