Flash Fiction Magazine

By Keli Davidson

On the morning of my mother’s funeral, all I could think about was Yancey, a long since dead-and-gone-dog I had named for the rough, brush-strewn South Texas town where I had picked her up, starving and tick covered, oh, some 25 years ago. Yancey has been dead more than ten years now, but there I was, with two hands on my steaming-hot coffee mug, looking out at the faded, muted colors of a cold February morning, one that has left the garden outside my mother’s window dormant and ash brown, thinking about that dog.

She was just a brown, medium-sized dog, with one ear up and the other folded over, the sort of cattle dog mix that is popular with the ranchers near where I pulled up in my old Jeep that hot July, afternoon. Pathetic.

[Read more…] about The Dog

By Barbara Solomon Josselsohn

“Daaa-vid,” Karen sings. “Ready for Storytime Sam?”

Her two-and-a-half year old scrambles out of his chair, jelly from his French toast still on his face, and scurries from the kitchen to the family room. His rubber-soled pajama feet make shushing sounds on the floor. He climbs onto the couch and waits, hands in lap, as Karen clicks on the TV. Then she picks up her phone, intending to catch up on the news from the CNN app.

But she knows that before long, she’ll be watching TV, too.

It’s 8 a.m., time for Storytime Sam, the ongoing story of a sandy-haired boy whose parents own a bookstore, through which many colorful characters shuffle each day. Each episode includes some dramatic situation—maybe a blizzard that strands the family overnight, or a threat by customers to shop at a chain store when a shipment of books is late—that teaches Sam some lesson about responsibility, or commitment, or honesty.

Karen’s son likes the parts with Sam best. But her favorite parts are when Tom Doodles appears.

[Read more…] about Storytime Sam

By David M. Hoenig

“Ahem. Wakey, wakey, Mr. Crispin!”

“What…? Oh, good Lord!”

“No, no, not actually.”

“But you…You’re…”

“Death.”

“But that means…”

“Yes, I’m afraid it does, Mr. Crispin. Time for you to, well, um, go.”

[Read more…] about Always Look On The Bright Side

By AJ Atwater

Before the grocery store with our splendid second floor apartment burned to the ground, my identical twin brother sold Encyclopedia Britannica door to door in our neighborhood until 2004, the year the place burned. Six months later, with a wad of insurance money in our hands, we’ve left our temporary motel room on a sunny morning to drive around looking for a way to spend it.

We’re the Nivin brothers, and we’re dressed in pants of black, string ties, and our white shirts are crisp as crackers.

[Read more…] about The Nivin Brothers

By Chad Koch

That June, the intern arrived at Charles Schwab. She arrived from Berkeley by subway carrying a bag of organic breakfast bars and protein drinks. She sat between the IRA processors and the Death Certificates department, dividing the full-time employees in half the way Moses parted the Red Sea.

The intern, a twenty-one year old rhetoric major, waited two days before making her first declaration.

“This floor will be a green space,” she said, foisting two empty boxes that once contained printer paper. “This one is compost, and this one is recycling.”

She handed boxes to everyone, even those in the microfilm department who never used paper.

One employee tossed his boxes. The very next day, the intern called a meeting despite the protests of the manager. She made her second declaration.

“I understand that I am an intern, and that I am here to learn from you. And although this is the bottom of the ladder, and many of you don’t have the privilege of a post-high school education, I must insist that you stop killing the planet.”

[Read more…] about The Intern

By Joshua Flowers

Melody was cleaning up for the first time in months and found it hidden beneath a lump of dirty clothes, a pocket upturned where it fell out. Melody’s eyes widened as she opened it up.

She imagined a white tiger sleeping inside that cramped, small, black box.

The tiger was easier.

Less stressful.

Jerry looked at the clean room, the open window creating a flow in their stagnant space, with a sense of panic.

“You cleaned?” Jerry tried to sound casual amidst his shock.

“Yeah.” Melody hid her trembling hands in a book. She looked up and saw the tiger had yawned on the floor. Its jewel-white fur was littered with black rings choking around its slender body.

Melody imagined she had woken it up from a long nap. They both watched Jerry nonchalantly feeling around the floor with his foot. His sock fumbled against the box, hidden underneath the bed, and he sighed in relief.

“So, dinner?” [Read more…] about Tiger in the Box