Category: Flash Fiction
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The Birth of the Goatman by John Wolfgram
The basement was thick with cigarette smoke and a little weed, the kind of air that stuck to your clothes long after the night ended. An old lava lamp floated light against the basement wood paneling. River perched on stool, a cigarette dangling from her lips. “Tell them, John,” she teased. “Tell them the story.”…
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Ants by Robyn McIntyre
I had always felt there was something wrong with my little brother and seeing him on the kitchen floor torturing ants just confirmed it. He’s six and a half and he’s on his knees, crushing the back end of ants and smiling as he watches them try to continue moving around. I open the refrigerator…
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Magical Thinking by Hope Nolan
I have headphones on while I stand at the bus stop. No music, just static loud enough to keep me from thinking. A man tries to talk to me as we wait. I ignore him, but my impulse to lie has me digging my key into my wrist. If I tell the man I can’t…
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Watcher by Koren Cowgill
The gaming chair Corporate provided lets you swivel while you scan the broad array of screens, watching employees scurry around preparing for the onslaught of customers. You actually have to call the police or Corporate if someone breaks into the store to steal money from a till, or to report something amiss with an employee.…
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Honey, Please by Kris Green
The scream shakes me from horizontal to vertical as my mind scrambles, going zero to sixty, unconsciousness to full alert. Rachel keeps screaming, not even pausing to take a breath. I try to put my arms around her when she pushes me back, shouting, “Get the fuck away from me!” I try to say something…
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Pork Chops by James Mason
Although he couldn’t save his wife, Matthew said he was lucky to escape the woods. Later, it came out that, on the first day of the hike, he hit her on the head with a stone and pushed her off a cliff. Apparently, it was planned all along. Her body struck the rock wall twice,…
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Old Sea Right by Daniel Cloyd
It hadn’t been a conscious thing, the way he lost his mind. It slipped away slowly, like water draining through a crack in the hull. Somewhere along the way, he knew it was gone. Hunger consumed it. Hunger could do that, especially when you hadn’t eaten in days. Maybe it began when he couldn’t tell…
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A Winter March by G.T. Eggertsson
Finally, someone has lived to tell the tale. He remembers the cave. He remembers the way. He memorized everything. Such a good boy. He was missing his left leg and three fingers on his right hand when we found him. We were besides ourself with joy and fear regardless. The Lads have never returned anyone…
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Sam’s Son by Tom Kropp
The day Sam’s son died was also Sam’s last day of freedom. Sam’s son was named Matt. Matt was ten years old and resembled his father’s good looks with dark hair and blue eyes. Sam was a tall lean man and Matt was a wiry athletic boy that was good in many sports. Matt’s favorite…
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A Little Bad Luck by Jim Foley
On Thursday we killed everyone, and it was every bit as wonderful as she had hoped. But on Friday, the first day of our perfect new life together, I woke up with a bad feeling. Late morning sunlight slanted through arched balcony doors. I blinked at Marcia, sleeping next to me on a massive mahogany…