A floral bouquet arrives. Someone has sent me a fragrant reminder of what is, or what was, or what could be. But who and what? Loosed by the wind, the florist’s card forever holds the answers in its muddy grave. The flowers will die—but the delicious possibilities are endless.
A prolific writer, Carol Reeves is loving the freedom and challenge of Flash Fiction. Her stories are found in 50-Word Stories and Flash Fiction Magazine. Her memoir, “All the Little Miracles,” was published in 2022.
After the funeral, as I’m tidying your shed, I find a wooden box tucked away on a high shelf behind an entanglement of brooms, rakes and garden tools. Inside, you’ve nestled a glass jar of seeds in crumpled newspaper. What were you saving, Dad? Shall I plant them, and see?
Fiona H Evans eats alphabet soup and arranges words into stories. She lives on Noongar Boodja in Western Australia, in a cottage near a river where black swans swim.
He lifted the tiny infant from the abandoned basket, thanking the gods for their gracious gift. Dressing him in golden cloth, he ennobled the child, proclaiming him his son and heir. The boy grew tall, strong, and powerfully capable.
But the king, in hopeful desperation, had overlooked the unusual eyes.
Karen Robinson is a flash fiction and poetry scribbler living by the sea in Devon, England.
The dog’s nose tingles with the scent of magic. The fae folk are near, and their tricks are many. Secrets are packed in boxes, as trustworthy as the spider to the fly. He barks, he bays, he howls his warning song. Unfortunately, the human only replies, “That’s just the mailman.”
Janelle Seabock is a writer with a love for horror, fantasy, and animals of all kinds. She currently resides in Florida.
Our first night in our first home, too hyped to sleep. We roam the halls marveling, planning. In our bright new kitchen, there gleams a behemoth of a fridge bequeathed from generous sellers.
What to do first—stock it with staples or inform police what we found in the freezer?
Carol Tymann is writing, reading, and playing through a typically long New York winter season.
She had no book of spells, no dusty scrolls with ancient formulas. Her incantations were spontaneous. She performed her rituals spur-of-the-moment, custom-made to the individual, whispered like a prayer, unleashing forces faster than light. When shadows become phantoms, the gentlest curse can nudge, redirect a person toward consequence, coincidence, enchantment.
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.
ACT 1:
A small pond in October.
Jimmy and I discover an old boat hidden in the overgrowth.
ACT 2:
Jimmy stands at the pond’s edge.
An elderly woman glides toward him through the fog.
ACT 3:
ME: Why can’t I see Jimmy anymore?
MOTHER: You’ll understand when you’re older.
Christopher is an Electroencephalographer from Buffalo, NY, with three published short plays: On Eating Bananas, A Conversation Over Harold, and Follow These Instructions.
Theodore Cray said they called to him from the sky. He painted their portraits at night. We laughed at him.
“They’re lonely,” he said, hiding the canvases.
We scoured his house and burned the paintings in his kitchen. “It’s over,” we said. “No more.”
And then Theodore Cray was gone.
Amanda E. Phillips writes unsettling stories from Sacramento, California. See more at amandaephillips.net.
Alan reads aloud the text relaying Ken’s funeral plans. The more he reads, the less colour adorns Jackie’s face.
“You didn’t know,” he says.
“What happened?”
“Stroke. Last Saturday.”
She pictures Ken’s smile peering up from the cabbages, hand raised in acknowledgment. “But I saw him at the allotment. Yesterday.”
Anna Sanderson writes about the world as she sees it (with the odd twist and turn). You can follow her story on Twitter at @annasanderson86.
In a cove of foam and grasping driftwood he finds five suitcases, and heavy with salt drags them ashore. Inside one a plastic bag of cash, a copper rosary, a letter that dissolves in his hands. He leaves the cases lined up on the sand from largest to pink-stickered smallest.
Jonathan Battista is an author and poet, and an accidental finalist in the Australian Poetry Slam. He has been published in Aniko Magazine and Alethia Literary Quarterly, including as the winner of the inaugural ALQ prose poetry award. He lives on Dharug and Gundungurra Country in the Blue Mountains of Australia with his wife and son.