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
Timothée Chalamet lives inside a crashed satellite at the edge of town. He glides there every night after work. Or, at least, I hear that he glides. You see, I know very little about Timothée Chalamet ...
Timothée Chalamet lives inside a crashed satellite at the edge of town at the edge of our dreams by Daniel John Healy
Flash Fiction
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
