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FLASH FICTION

Inheritance by Madeline Anthes

March 31, 2020

  Everyone expected me to take my mother’s eyes. I had a right to take what I wanted, and her eyes were legendary. She’d taken them from her mother, and her mother had taken them from her mother. They were…

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The Color It Leaves Behind by Kathryn McMahon

March 13, 2020

  My girlfriend has a pet rock that watches us in bed. A cold lump of gray with googly eyes, a feather headband, and a red glitter mouth that Becca would never wear. It used to be in a box…

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Hello, My Name Is Marley by K.B. Carle

February 7, 2020

And I’m an ALCOHOLIC.

My parents, they had flaws. I was the kid left waiting at school, watching all the other kids’ parents pick them up on time while I got BLISTERS from squeezing the chain-link fence so hard, only to become someone else’s RESPONSIBILITY…

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Take Me to Your Leader by Amy Stuber

January 17, 2020

  There are funnel cakes. There are deep-fried Kit Kats. There are even deep-fried sticks of butter. Sam’s feet sink into the mud that’s covered with straw because it rained ten inches in forty-eight hours and it’s probably going to…

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Photo of a Nine-Year-Old Girl Smoking by Kat Moore

December 13, 2019

  Inspired from a photo by Mary Ellen Mark Lisa’s sitting in the baby pool with chubby Annie even though they aren’t babies anymore. The plastic green pool is in the driveway of Annie’s Aunt Jean’s house. Lisa is nine…

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The Tired Day by Benjamin Woodard 

November 22, 2019

  Nobody at the Powers That Be figured out the source. But something happened. And below, the town experienced a tired day. Everyone woke. Carol showered. Alfred ate breakfast. Sandra contemplated suicide. Others kissed spouses or parents or pets or…

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In Memoriam by Kyra Kondis

November 15, 2019

  I can’t wear my black V-neck to take yearbook pictures today because I wore it to a funeral last Friday, so now it’s my funeral shirt. Which is crazy, I know, because it’s not like I’ve worn it to…

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Sacred and Profane by Melissa Goode

November 8, 2019

  Our hotel in Rome is a former monastery, darkly shadowed, stone. There is no elevator. He hauls both of our suitcases up three flights of stairs. I wait for him at the top. His muscles flex, his forehead creases.…

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After Dinner / Girls in the Woods by Jacqueline Doyle

November 1, 2019

  After Dinner   A woman sits at a kitchen table, sipping chamomile tea and reading a book. The dishes have been rinsed, the counters and sink cleared, the dishwasher hums. Outside the window over the sink, the night is…

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How Loudly We Dead Howl by Sarah Arantza Amador

October 11, 2019

  The approach is by boat—the passage is narrow. Our steamer slipped through the still, dark water. Us passengers, bewitched, red-eyed and scorch-lunged refugees from the burning south, reached out to touch the icy granite, scraped clean as a birth…

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