Flash
Rolling News

Rolling News

by Peter Cowlam
 
Minions in a free press, let loose with a vision, wash tides of stucco from their blades as work ends on a coastal tower.
Object Permanence

Object Permanence

by Amye Archer
 
It is dark. The summer is ending, but we can still taste her on our tongues. Twenty beers between us has made you hungry for me.
Three in the Morning and You Don’t Smoke Anymore

Three in the Morning and You Don’t Smoke Anymore

by Peter J. Stavros
 
It’s that thing that wakes you at three in the morning, with a gasp and a startle.
Tipsy

Tipsy

by T.E. Cowell
 
Once you start making shopping lists it all goes downhill from there.
Honeymoon

Honeymoon

by Hamdy Elgammal
 
The boy and the girl sat on the edge of the highway, their backs against a wall fifty miles out of Sacramento.
The Other Baby

The Other Baby

by Jackleen Holton Hookway
 
The temperature in the Central Valley had dropped to a record low. I scraped the frost off the windshield before I drove myself to the hospital.
Is This the Promised End?

Is This the Promised End?

by Nina Kotyantz
 
Morris Brandson in his beige raincoat—the one he inherited from Arthur Miller’s Willy—trots along the damp grounds of his forsaken city, fighting the ruthless blows of the raindrops in the wind.
Take Five With Leesa Cross-Smith

Take Five With Leesa Cross-Smith

Leesa’s stories invite the reader to the table, pour them a couple fingers of something good, and leave them reeling.
The Practice of Eating an Apple With Glass Teeth

The Practice of Eating an Apple With Glass Teeth

by Jane-Rebecca Cannarella
 
I try to pierce apple flesh with my incisors but always avoid using my tree stump molars.
Writers Make Terrible Partners

Writers Make Terrible Partners

by Levi Andrew Noe
 
The clouds stand poised above us like sumo wrestlers in leotards, bursting at the seams. I chuckle to myself and you ask why, but I can’t just say, “Because leotard is a funny word.”
Red

Red

by Audra Kerr Brown
 
You come home from work and find a package on your doorstep. It’s from your mother; you recognize her writing on the return address—slanting cursive like trees bowing in the wind.
Apple Red

Apple Red

by Brian Burmeister
 
We had just sat down for lunch when James got waved over to another table. His girlfriend broke up with him over the weekend, and he was going over there to talk to her.
Crossing the river

Crossing the river

by Dianne Poston Owens
 
It’s a Monday. I’m parked in the shade of an oak tree, listening to Raeford. All is quiet after the bells.
The Shop of Lost Things

The Shop of Lost Things

by Jill Hand
 
It’s quiet, and you can hear clocks ticking slowly and patiently. Dust motes spin and whirl in the dim light. It is the kind of scene that you might encounter in a dream, but this is not a dream.

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