“You said you’d do it. Do it!” Patty demanded.
First, Tanner stared at the mallard’s smooth, storm cloud body as the buoyant bird moved peacefully atop the stream. Then at its metallic green head – too exotic for grey Nova Scotia.
Patty offered the rock with urgency and repeated, “Do it!”
Joe Couture is a writer living in rural Nova Scotia. He writes for his health. If you want to connect with him, try here: @rjcouture.bsky.social.
A red thread is on the ground. You’re surrounded by the walls. Somewhere in this labyrinth there’s a monster hiding.
Suddenly there’s a sound – a step.
It’s just behind the angle.
You come out first.
That’s a young man with a shield in his hand.
He sees you – he screams.
Vera Podell is a Russian-born writer and photo artist. She writes in three languages which are English, Russian and German. Vera tends to experiment a lot with her writing style, primarily focusing on the themes of memory and how to forms our identity.
“She does nothing.”
According to him, she had done so for years. How easily he dismissed fifty-plus years of marriage, of service. University, children, tenure, moving, a roast chicken every Sunday.
She considered his crooked spine, heard his ragged breath begin to struggle. With an imperceptible smile, she did Nothing.
Megan Beltran is a musician and word-enthusiast living in the San Francisco Bay Area. She loves the redwoods, teaching, and language.
Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder. I should know. It’s why I kept a close eye on you.
If thine eye offends thee, pluck it out. We’ve done that too.
So now you’ll be all eyes on me. Literally. Do you see?
No, of course you don’t.
Not anymore.
Steven Holding wrote this story.
A, B, C, D. Test subjects.
Under dark we whispered the names of our parents, our sisters, our brothers. We vowed not to forget them. Not to forget ourselves.
The Experimenters did weird things to us. We behaved. To them, we were toys.
To ourselves: Autumn, Briar, Calla, Dawn. Girls.
Ginny Feng lives in Tennessee, where she writes short stories and reads fantasy and learns lots.
First the whispers
Then the shadows
His skin bites
Alert
He stands braced
Screams flash back
Demons taunt
Alive again…
He must…
He fails…
She wakes him
He leaves the sweat-soaked sheets
Hours later
She makes oatmeal
He almost smiles
A goodbye kiss
She revisits her spell book
And laughs
Patrick Yu says: It didn’t work out in the end.
The walls inside the grimy bathroom stall are plastered with rumors: pregnant, gay, abortion, slut.
As if words didn’t mean anything. As if they didn’t have power over a person’s life.
My grip around the Sharpie tightens. In an empty corner, I add some truth: You will be missed, Kerry.
Tonia Markou is a writer and university teacher based in Germany. She holds a Masters in Creative Writing. When she isn’t writing flash fiction or short stories or editing her first novel, she collects Converse shoes, stationery, mugs, and pajamas – not necessarily in that order. Her fiction has appeared in Flash, Lit Up, The Junction, and P.S. I Love You.
Many islanders believed that chickens were for laying eggs and eating. But Lin knew better. Life was all about the fight. Families, cities, countries, and dynasties, all jostling for survival. The cockfight was life. And money.
Though Lin’s luck had disappeared and he, too, would have to do the same.
Charmaine Wilkerson’s novella How to Make a Window Snake won the 2017 Bath Novella-in-Flash award. Other stories and essays have appeared in various print and online publications. She tweets occasionally at @charmspen1.
Mikolo woke up tired. His hair felt heavy and his throat burnt. A masked man came into the room and gave him some water.
The man left and locked the door. Mikolo did his business in the corner. He could hear unbearable screaming from down the hall.
He was next.
Dan Shushko is a Ukrainian writer from Lviv.
I didn’t object when Mom took me to the shrink. I’m a good son.
I answered all his questions truthfully.
The doctor told Mom it’s worrisome, my playing with fire and torturing small animals.
I reassured her. Those are symptoms for small boys. They don’t apply now that I’m forty.
Paul Lees-Haley used to be a psychologist and will be again when they let him out. His work has appeared in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, The Alabama Writers Conclave’s Alalitcom, Voices, G/C/T, Hypertrophic Literary, CoEvolution Quarterly, Trial, Spectrum, and numerous psychological and legal journals and magazines.