Daily Flash Fiction Stories
By Emily Henry Burnham
Where is Awenga, the Chosen One? She has not shown up at tide today. She forms an open, empty spot between her mother and father that makes their faces flush with shame. Today was meant to be her Wading, the day she will take responsibility for the whole tribe by drowning herself in the salty sea.
[Read more…] about The WadingBy Jacob Strunk
The thing about being haunted is that you get used to it. The bumps in the night. The creaking floors. Shadows bending at the edges of your vision. Here, at the tail end of a wine bender, alone and listening to the wind, plodding about her one-bedroom apartment, she almost expects a dark figure to step through the hallway behind her reflection in the mirror. The ancient furnace kicks on two floors beneath her, rattling the walls, and she waits for a whispered voice to sneak in from the stairwell. The rhythmic pings from the radiator must be a message. Some communication. Something meant for her.
[Read more…] about Someday We Will See Each Other for the Last TimeBy Tracy Neiman
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The sky is falling on live television. People raise their hands and dance in neon darkness. They kiss. They peel confetti from their hair and laugh. There are singers, entertainers, show girls, half-naked in the cold. There are fireworks, of course. There always are—in the sky, on our phones, in our chests—incandescent as they detonate.
[Read more…] about We Are the Welcoming CommitteeBy Chris Cooper
Bailey had once come close to the ultimate reward. He’d invented a new portable brain scanner used to detect Alzheimer’s. But, like an Olympic final, there were no prizes for coming fourth in the Nobel race; he’d had to settle for the sympathy of outraged collaborators, while a rival triumvirate bathed in his glory.
[Read more…] about PNTBy M D Smith IV
I can’t remember how long I’ve been a ghost—perhaps a long time, but it could have been recently. My memory—it’s so foggy.
I do know this is my house. I’m standing in my living room looking out the big bay windows to our wooded backyard. It’s bursting with flower blossoms of yellow, orange, and red, the lovely hues of an artist’s palette in the brilliant sunshine.
[Read more…] about The GhostBy Suki Litchfield
“Can you smell that? It’s the paprika. I throw it in everything. We’re a quarter Hungarian; it’s sort of an instinct.
Now, the spices are important, but the real secret to a good stew is quality ingredients. This corn came from my garden last summer. See how yellow that is? Let’s add both ears.
If you haven’t guessed, I love cooking. It’s my passion. I should probably be a chef, but I went to nursing school instead. I’m the practical one. Nursing pays the bills, yadda yadda. But, man, I love to cook.
[Read more…] about Family RecipeIn a rotted greenhouse deep in the overgrowth of The Girl’s yard, ants march in lightning bolt single file. With her video camera, battery long dead, she tracks the line of creatures, narrating with her best nature documentary voice.
“Some children,” The Girl says, “but not me, fear ants. Ants are marvelous. They live in big families, called colonies, and always work together.”
[Read more…] about One by One