
Stories No. 96 – William Lemon
William Lemon teaches creative writing and composition at Los Angeles City College. He has been published at BlazeVOX, Bartleby Snopes, Drunk Monkeys, and Menacing Hedge Continue reading Stories No. 96 – William Lemon
William Lemon teaches creative writing and composition at Los Angeles City College. He has been published at BlazeVOX, Bartleby Snopes, Drunk Monkeys, and Menacing Hedge Continue reading Stories No. 96 – William Lemon
The gnat, almost imperceptibly quiet except for its occasional cry, is AWOL. The gnat, a pet-microscopic-dragon-friend, explored and flew around and suited the room. Continue reading Stories No. 95 – Pablo Castro
Santi put the phone back into its cradle. It was the agency calling about his placement. Let go, just like that. His two years at the law firm over. Continue reading Stories No. 94 – Gerard Cabrera
Ten minutes had passed since Otto’s ‘be right out’ text came in. The sun was getting low, and the last family had already scooped their children up to go eat dinner. Continue reading Stories No. 93 – Josh Dale
The baby, on entering the world, already trails her ghost. If it were visible to humans, the ghost would look like a dark puff of smoke leaking from the mother writhing on the bed. Continue reading Stories No. 92 – Heidi Kasa
Kim Farleigh has worked for NGO’s in Greece, Kosovo, Iraq, Palestine and Macedonia. He takes risks to get the experience necessary for writing. He also likes painting, art, bullfighting, photography and architecture, which might explain why this Australian lives in Madrid. Continue reading Stories No. 91 – Kim Farleigh
A stranger called and I picked up my phone.
“Hello, how are you doing today?” said the voice from the other end. The voice belonged to a woman, an older woman. It was deep and luxurious, a perfect balance of grace and authority. Just from that simple hello, I could hear the weight of experience, a lifetime of training in forming the perfect first impression.
Lena was raised on violin lessons and minimal parental supervision. Maestro Ludwig, her first violin teacher, was spiritually her only family. After early morning lessons, before she went off to school, they liked to relax together on the cool sheets of his unmade bed in his private studio in the Hyatt Regency, her violin lying between them. They smelled plumeria and coconut-scented sunscreen lotion from Kaanapali Beach through the one open window. Continue reading Stories No. 89 – Jeanne Althouse
They offered me a job at the clinic near my house, and I took It because I had to keep up with rent while mami visited home country to nurse her mama for three months. I did not mind that It was a graveyard shift since the place was just a few bus stops away. My task was to receive packages and log their arrival in a binder. The delivery men wore khaki overalls and never spoke. As of now, those are the facts I can recall. Continue reading Stories No. 88 – Elinol López
And then, slow as you like, Fernando reaches back and peels his cheeks apart. Staring over one shoulder, his lips wet from kissing, his hair still perfect despite all that rolling around.
#Erotica Continue reading Stories No. 87 – T. B. Grennan
“How many candles do you see? Mother? How many? Can you see how many? Sit up. It’s your daughter Eve. Count, Mother. There are 69.” Continue reading Stories No. 86 – John Francis Istel
Read the Medication Guide that comes with AMBIEN before you begin taking the pill, or unless you can’t sleep. Which is ironic. Continue reading Flash No. 18 – Denise Tolan
I am folding my mom’s fancy clothes. Bright patterned dresses and diaphanous floral blouses from Bloomingdale’s. Bespoke wool pants, now impossibly baggy, from a shop on Madison. All the finery she once wore to Broadway plays and opera at the Met, to museums and lunches at upscale Manhattan restaurants. Continue reading Flash No. 17 – Sue Mell
“Monkeys, time to go!” Papi yells in his firm but gravelly voice. I lag behind at the end of the K-Mart checkout counter, eyeing the Mars candy bars. Aleta, my younger sister, kicks my heels. I trudge forward almost bumping into a white woman pushing a cart who suddenly stops after hearing Papi. Her lips stretch into a worldwide oval, ruby red lipstick smeared on her cigarette-stained teeth. Continue reading Stories No. 85 – Mario Duarte
Lorenzo Rivas stirred a seventh packet of sugar into his coffee. He wondered how much of his twelve-minute break he’d spent staring at the barista’s arm. Continue reading Stories No. 84 – C. Adán Cabrera
One day (which we must all understand to mean many years ago now) a girl in her mother’s kitchen cuts a lock of her shiny hair, sets it in resin, and promises to live forever. When she is ninety-three and dying, she calls grey loved ones into the room to give these instructions: Continue reading Flash No. 16 – Taylor V. Card
A Tale of Two Maps By Peter Gregg Slater Knowing how I love maps, the owner of a bookstore in Washington, D.C. brought out two for me to look over during a 2019 visit. The first, a world map from 1578, displayed the surrealistic continents and islands characteristic of the period’s cartography. Tiny ships bravely sailed its seas, a few ominously heading towards waters marked: … Continue reading Flash No. 15 – Peter Gregg Slater
Stroke
By Katie Mauro Zeigler
If I could talk, I would tell you that I used to have sex with the windows open and the moonlight and a man’s hands at the small of my back. I would tell you how it felt to bring a baby into the world and how my first period came at twelve. Continue reading Flash No. 14 – Katie Mauro Zeigler
Fomorians By Peter F. Crowley You’re a piss reminder of an everlasting hotel. She spoke in a fiery tone. The man waddled side-to-side and began patting a penguin. He glanced to a chalkboard behind the penguin, where were written the words: We’ve broken glass, crushed marigold eyes, dethroned coughing cathedrals, driven Zambonis over subterranean rinks, planted flowers that scratch out esophagi – and now … Continue reading Flash No. 13 – Peter F. Crowley
Reunited in the Fourth House By Gary Singh After leaving the BART station, I visit my Berkeley astrologer at her spooky wooden house near Rose and Milvia, where paint-peeled steps take me to a porch milieu of hanging plants, ancient wicker sectionals, and apathetic cats. Soon enough, the door opens, revealing those same clear eyes of a clairvoyant nature I remember from morning Tarot … Continue reading Flash No. 12 – Gary Singh
Slow Motion Man By Benjamin Davis His name was Eam. Reality shot him in slow motion. He worked in Spain, Salamanca, a bar called ‘El Submarino,’ the second bar, up the stairs. When he snapped open a beer, it took a minute. When he mixed a drink, it took ten. But, people waited, people watched. I waited. I watched. His eyes found me; eyes … Continue reading Flash No. 11 – Benjamin Davis
Toward Non-Volatile Memory By Soramimi Hanarejima Once again, you take us on “a short detour to see a memory”—meaning we’re going to visit some event in your past. So, I take a nap. To give you some privacy and get some respite from the strain time travel subjects the body to. I recline the time machine’s co-pilot seat (really more of a glorified passenger … Continue reading Flash No. 10 – Soramimi Hanarejima
Drag Racing By Catherine Martinez Torigian The last time I heard that sound I was a girl of fifteen, give or take a year. But it was only this morning that I realized it what it was, like a flash of heat lightning on a summer’s day, baffling until the thunder came. A man and woman from the new building on the corner walked … Continue reading Flash No. 9 – Catherine Martinez Torigian
Kapre Down Under By Ben Umayam Aspen trees proliferate primarily through root sprouts. Whole colonies can be traced to one gargantuan underground sprout. The colonies can extend from the Colorado Rockies to the Canadian ones. Aspen trees are like clones. They share identical characteristics from the single root structure. When they die, it’s almost like they don’t, another tree sprouts from the massive underground formation. … Continue reading Flash No. 8 – Ben Umayam
Morning Sun By David Joseph I remember the first time I saw “Morning Sun” by Edward Hopper. I was on a school trip from our high school in Cleveland. It was only a two hour drive down to the Columbus Museum of Art and, truth be told, I was more interested in spending the afternoon making out with my boyfriend than staring at art. Museums … Continue reading Flash No. 7 – David Joseph
The Missing Years By John Nicholson The engine idles as a wounded soldier recovers on the ground, holding his abdomen. Another soldier leans against the car. The smoke from his cigarette vanishes into the snowy canopy. The wounded man chokes as he recounts what happened to him. I. A Roadway in the Woods “It was just the two of us. I couldn’t.” The standing soldier … Continue reading Flash No. 6 – John Nicholson
Brief Encounter By Lucía Orellana Damacela It’s dark under the house, the smell of the sea —less than one mile downhill— expands my nostrils like desert flowers. From this underbelly, this rocky refuge, as I pass by, a sudden shimmer calls me in. I am wearing white cotton socks and plastic sandals that screech as I walk. Two small green-yellow lights are suspended in front … Continue reading Flash No. 5 – Lucía Orellana Damacela
The End Which Envelopes the End, a Bramble, a Rose By Elizabeth Kirschner Lonely, like a coffee mug on the shelf, I slow roll into the empty spot on the bed where we shed the best skin of our lives. We were a thing of beauty, weren’t we? A thing of beauty, us, this, before that man—not you!—shoved my face into the weeds. I can … Continue reading Flash No. 4 – Elizabeth Kirschner
A Gift By Christine Kendall Lourdes sat, thirsty, in her son’s old Mercedes sandwiched between delivery vans on East Seventy-Ninth Street. She studied the license plates of passing cars; all local—New York. “I’ll only be a minute, Mama.” That’s what he’d said before taking his tools and disappearing into one of the limestone apartment buildings. Lourdes smoothed her blouse at the neck and watched a … Continue reading Flash No. 3 – Christine Kendall
Conversation By Ana Hein It is dark when they talk. “You don’t have to do th–” “–I know.” “Okay… Maybe some other–” “–It’s alright.” “But–” “–Trust me.” “I do, but–” “–Aren’t you happy?” “I am, b–” “–Then what’s the problem?” “I’m not really su–” “–I think you’re going to like this.” “You–” “–Come on, I know what I’m doing.” “That’s not–” “–It’s not a big … Continue reading Flash No. 2 – Ana Hein
Brown Girl Blues By Rachel Werner “Yes. I cut myself.” “And NO, I am not white.” “But YES, my mother is.” These sentences I have said aloud. But the monologue I’ve pieced together for my own ears is: Everybody is a little bit crazy. So that’s WHY I am ‘crazy.’ Being alive is h-a-r-d; ‘though if I was walking around pretending like it wasn’t, … Continue reading Flash No. 1 – Rachel Werner
Xenophobia By Bobbi Steele I tried not to look at the mirror in front of me, but it was drawing me in. The tugging on my eyes pulled them further up from the sink, to the faucet and finally to the edge of the mirror. There were lint and dust covering the sink in the back, and I used my finger to slowly push it … Continue reading Stories No. 83 – Bobbi Steele
The Mattress By Amber Baird Samantha told him about the Russians. Her parents told her not to, of course, but she had to tell someone, and Charlie was her best friend. He sat beside her, under the tree in her backyard, and squinted at her through the sun filtering through the leaves. The remains from their picnic lunch were scattered around them — empty store-brand … Continue reading Stories No. 82 – Amber Baird
Voodoo By Gary Singh Slim occupies a vinyl bar stool, accompanied by a personalized chalice with hoppy German lager direct from the tanks downstairs. His name is carved onto the side of the mug. Camille’s alto voice, a younger, more dusty version of Edith Piaf, floats in like counterpoint to the chaos of sports on nine televisions. She emerges from the kitchen right when Slim … Continue reading Stories No. 81 – Gary Singh
Ghost Voice By Victoria Giang They called it the ghost voice because of the way it crackled and warbled into a piercingly high register. It was a voice to captivate and bind the listener. Ros had it. “Once I fed a flower only music,” she confessed to Eung, her manager, confidante, and lover. Likewise, he slaked her thirst with a stream of abuse so endless … Continue reading Stories No. 80 – Victoria Giang
Join Us By Lee Matthew Goldberg Rockabilly music about the Holy Ghost pumps through the windows of the Salvation Gateway Fellowship Church, a small, red shack with a giant neon cross on the roof, its buzzy light flickering in the dawn. Nestled between two deflated hills in the Missouri Ozarks, this wonky, stitched-together building is the only beacon for miles. The surrounding landscape provides enough … Continue reading Stories No. 79 – Lee Matthew Goldberg
Inconvenienced by Death By William Lemon The guests poured into the hotel pool dressed in robes, bathing suits underneath their fake, downy fur. The children did not bother with such pretense. They wore as little as possible, unafraid of cancer or the judging eyes of their peers. I joined the procession, tie still about my neck. Near the entrance to the pool, a cry from … Continue reading Stories No. 78 – William Lemon
Smell You Later By Paul Beckman The Sunday of my sixth birthday I was waiting on the stoop for my father to pick me up. Usually he’d take both my older brother and me together on his monthly pickups but not on birthday months. He wanted those to be special and memorable. That Sunday turned out to be memorable but not special. I sat on … Continue reading Stories No. 77 – Paul Beckman
Orion By Lucy Zhang The first room to the left on the second floor was my brother’s room. Four pieces of tape held a poster of NGC 2024, the star-forming region—ribbons of cloud and smoke, specks of light that penetrated greys and blacks which, instead of obscured, conjured an inexplicable hope to where stars glimmered, mysticism to where they did not. Constellation Orion hung on … Continue reading Stories No. 76 – Lucy Zhang
Saturday Siren By Kathryn Ordiway ‘I mean, the hotter the weather, the more people murder,’ your husband says as he wades waist-deep in the murky water. ‘Serial killers and Kansas, you know?’ You have only your feet in the lake, legs stretched long from your place on a blanket because the color—the twinges of red and brown and earthy green—disgusts and concerns you. This is … Continue reading Stories No. 75 – Kathryn Ordiway
Reeled In By M. Devoe Talley I saw you then in the summer from the promenade of that county fair as you lay on your back in the near grass and I wandered with girlfriends I barely knew. The late low sun dazzled your tangle of blond hair, and a mustache made you look older, closer to twenty-eight—which was good. Demigods of a lesser mythology, … Continue reading Stories No. 74 – M. DeVoe Talley
What Happens When the Ride Stops By Christina Rosso The wave curled, a claw digging into flesh. My tiny body thrashed in the ocean, the pressure of the wave on my neck and shoulders like a thousand bricks. Saltwater bled from my nose and throat. It was like being on the tilt-a-whirl at the Malvern Fair. I would ride it until I was hunched over, … Continue reading Stories No. 73 – Christina Rosso
Stories No. 72 – Desert Diner Robbery by John Murphy Continue reading Stories No. 72 – John Murphy
Stories No. 71 – Hermes by Demy Ren Continue reading Stories No. 71 – Demy Ren
Stories No. 70 – how we talk when we talk like ladies by Laura Winnick Continue reading Stories No. 70 – Laura Winnick
Stories No. 69 – Bocce and Apples Crates by Wm. Brett Hill Continue reading Stories No. 69 – Wm. Brett Hill
Stories No. 68 – The Awakening by Nancy Stohlman Continue reading Stories No. 68 – Nancy Stohlman
Stories No. 67 – The Hive by Will Clattenburg Continue reading Stories No. 67 – Will Clattenburg
Stories No. 66 – The Limbo Meet-up Group by Trista Hurley-Waxali Continue reading Stories No. 66 – Trista Hurley-Waxali
Stories No. 65 – A Nice Boy by Raffi Boyadjian Continue reading Stories No. 65 – Raffi Boyadjian
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