Flash Fiction Magazine

By Joy Lanzendorfer

The volar of her hand was small and tender, as soft as a piece of sponge cake. I watched it make an appearance as she handed me the change, the leafy green bills covering the delicate lines etched there.

It was strange that her hands affected me so much. Her castellated fingers jutted from the slender branch of her wrist, and I couldn’t move my eyes away. Later, when I came back for a second coffee, I watched her write something on a clipboard, her wrist jerking with the effort, her fingers swooning around the pen. I noticed the veins, blue against her flesh, and imagined them surrounding her, drawing blood up to the tied knot of her head.

[Read more…] about Hand To Mouth

By Joan Leotta

Undulating roads spiral up Mt. Etna’s cooler side where a winery awaited us for a tasting. Arrival found me nauseous from the curvy, winding drive—no matter, they were not ready for us. I had some time for my stomach to settle before it was our turn. A German couple was negotiating cases of wine for their restaurant somewhere in Bavaria.

[Read more…] about Bread of Life

By Ray Daley

Dedication: For Judy

Four hundred years of putting up with Midwich On Sea and their bloody Kraken. Clifton and their damn Roc, too! It’s not enough that they had better monsters. They could control the creatures, too! Frequently, we’d find minor tidal waves crashing through the village, or people being randomly plucked off into the sky. And what did we have in Burnistone? A dragon that hated the sight of us.

[Read more…] about It Takes a Dragon

By Karabi Mitra

My piano teacher hits a white key and I let the sound wash over me. Nothing registers. I attempt to sing the note at the correct pitch, but I know that I am horribly off-key. My teacher has a faint smirk on her face. She presses another key. It’s a black one this time. I take a deep breath and sing aloud again. My voice warbles towards the end, and I swallow nervously when I am done.

[Read more…] about My Last Piano Lesson

By Cheyenne Autry

We’d come down to Arapahoe, North Carolina with our youth group to learn how to sail. The boys of our group cawed and crowed getting off the bus, pushing us to the side as they made their way down the aisle and spilled into sunlight. We girls huddled down in the front, vinyl sticking and peeling from the back of our legs like duct tape, our fine leg hair pulled violently from the root when we finally departed.

[Read more…] about The Thing in the River

By June Rogers

Sitting at a café patio stirring sugar into my latte, I hated myself for using a Styrofoam cup, a plastic lid and a spoon. Ugh! Too much plastic everywhere. I sipped the hot, bittersweet brew, tapping out an order on my smartphone for take-out chicken and French fries for dinner. My baby slept in a stroller at my feet.

[Read more…] about The Day Plastic Fell from the Sky