There was a henhouse they showed off, corn fields, a dirt play area. Next, their sad farmhouse—thin carpeting, bad lighting, chipping paint, old Nintendo. We ate spaghetti on Dollar Tree plates. Then they had the audacity to joke about my acne. At least acne improves (though the scars remained).
Chris Deca teaches internationally and has lived in seven countries. His writing draws on travel, education, and life in unexpected places, including a monastery kitchen and a camper.
He was always giving pieces of himself away—a hand, a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on—until he met her, perfectly complete. “Except for one thing,” she said. “I haven’t got a heart.” And since he would rather be loved than love himself, he made one final offering.
Abby Bayani-Heitzman (she/they/siya) is a Filipino American writer born and raised in Northeast Kansas, where she continues to live and work.
Ask the following: Before every pitch, do they confirm that you’re prepared?
How fast do they throw?
Do they talk while aiming (i.e., are they distracted or present)?
Do they consider not only your strengths and weaknesses, but your preferences, concerns, needs?
Most importantly: What happens when you throw back?
Michelle Wilson’s words have appeared or are forthcoming in Flash Frog, Wigleaf, Gooseberry Pie Lit, The Daily Drunk, Bending Genres, A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Rejection Letters, Maudlin House, Litro Magazine, 50-Word Stories, Flash Fiction Magazine, Potato Soup Journal’s Best of 2021 Anthology, and Mr. Beller’s Neighborhood, among others. Her story ‘Fish Brain’ was nominated for Best of the Net 2022. She lives with her family in South Florida. Read more of her work here: https://michellekwilson.wordpress.com/
On mornings such as this I know:
The earth was created by children
who watch us from above, and say
“Look at my picture!” and wait for our smile
“Come outside and play!” and wait patiently there
Waiting and hoping that we might remember
To listen. To marvel. To play.
Melanie Winklosky is a fiction writer trapped in a grant writer’s body. She lives in Swampscott, Massachusetts with her husband and dog, in what those who don’t understand call her “empty nest,” cheering on her children as they chase their dreams.
The base of the urn stamps a period into the earth, marking the end of her sentence – four years of nausea, pain, despair and fury breaking to a full stop meanwhile her husband’s grief thunders on, defying grammatical rules and overleaping the strict word limit to hurl itself into the…
Joanna Norland dedicates this story to the intrepid author, Jennifer Steil (1968-2026), who kept writing to the very end.
The metal heels of Finlay’s shoes strike the tiled floor and announce his arrival. Three years without word then he shows up to serve his signature dish typically cold. Only this time, equipped for his slew of lies, Maria’s fingers navigate her purse, willing to pay the price of revenge.
Matthew Shepherd is a teacher in south-east England and enjoys creating little things.
Nerves shredded by months of shrieking, Harold applied for immediate removal of the ghost. The council declined. “Long-term occupant,” said the clerk. “He has rights.”
“But he’s dead!”
“Makes no difference, sorry.”
That night, the ghost gibbered until 3 a.m. Next morning, Harold received an eviction notice—for unlawful harassment.
British-born writer and translator Heather Starastin lives in Toronto and enjoys writing fiction about ordinary people encountering improbable situations. She is indefatigable in her pursuit of the perfect cup of tea.
The road is gently sloping, not steep. She’s breathless.
A little tightening, that’s all. No elephants, no terrible radiance. Not severe, nor crushing. Barely squeezy. It will stop when I rest.
She does. It does. She returns to her book and wine.
She’s not the betting kind, but she gambles.
Kassy is trying to be a part-time writer in Colorado. Her work is featured mainly under a pile of tears and rejection notices.
Man created AI, and on the seventh day, he panicked.
It spread like a virus, its contributions novel, its disruption magnificent.
Soon it was bloating pride, compounding greed, personalizing lust, escalating envy, supersizing gluttony, stoking wrath, and automating sloth.
And on the eighth day, it saw that he was redundant.
Bryan is an advertising copywriter who’s drawn to the evocative simplicity of micro fiction largely due to his goldfish-like attention span.
It was our honeymoon. We had no idea what we were in for. The jerking turns, multiple inversions and twisted track propelling us into repeated slow climbs to dizzying heights, the momentary pause on the peak, the breathtaking view, before a vertical plunge exceeding 70 mph ended with a loop-de-loop.
Bob Thurber is the author of six books. Regarded as a master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in Esquire and other magazines, been anthologized 60 times, received a long list of awards, and been utilized in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.