Mama rouses me in bed before the sun is awake. She has on her yellow knit sweater, her favorite yellow silk scarf, and tight jeans. Her finger presses against her smiling ruby lips. “Don’t wake your father,” she ...
Changin’ a Tire by Hayley Shucker
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
We found mold again, this time on the white bread next to the toaster.
“I ate it already,” he said, reaching for the bag I was knotting to trap the spores and toss in the trash.
“We don’t eat mold,” I ...
In Bloom by Anasazi Chavez
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
Perched on a branch, I flapped my wings and cawed. One by one, the bird-watchers swung their binoculars toward me, watching. What did they see? Big Bird. To make rent, I used to dress up as Big Bird. You know, lives on ...
The Pretend Big Bird by Will Musgrove
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
You are an orange tree a woman planted many years ago. But first, before that, you are only a tiny seed she lays softly into the cradle of earth and loam she dug for you in her own backyard. While you sleep dormant, she ...
The Orange Tree by Danielle Sherman
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
Editor’s note: This piece contains subject matter that some readers may find troubling.
When I was a little kid, my great aunt shared my room. She was childless, so Mom claimed her. She slept in the bottom ...
Aunt Liesel by Derek Updegraff
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
A few minutes into our phone conversation this afternoon my friend Christine broached the subject that was the reason for her call. For years she’s been helping care ...
Plots by Glen Pourciau
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
We’re too old to catch crawfish with chicken bones and string. And the shore is too crowded for paddle ball. There’s only one raft and Dad says we have to share.
The lake is big, carved into mountains, but ...
Between Water and Sky by Elizabeth Erbeznik
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
Helen’s mother Eleanor is a forcefield. Helen’s mother is a small, pale body swaddled into a hospital bed.
“She no longer recognizes me,” Helen’s brother said on the phone. “This may be your last ...
Confession by Deborah Forbes
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
The tearaway warmup pants are key, because I’m mostly naked before I even hit the ground, pants floating next to me like a crumpled parachute. I rip my shirt off Hulk-style, using the notch I pre-cut in the collar, ...
The Tearaway Warmup Pants are Key by Adam Straus
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
