Flash Fiction Magazine

By Marina Hatsopoulos

In the dark, my grandfather, “Papou,” makes like he’s tooting an army bugle to wake me, while my parents and big brother sleep. Outside our house, on the outskirts of Athens, the surf rumbles.

Cutting bread under a plume of cigarette smoke, Papou quotes one of his faves, an oldie from Alexander the Great: “When it’s over, all that matters is what you’ve done.”

[Read more…] about When It’s Over

By Monique CM Keffer

They told me she appeared once, and I have tried so hard to believe. That the ordinary faded straw in their run-down barn could feel her little feet without burning up from holy fire inside her. Her eyes stood out dark and pure in afternoon shadows, filling up her four-year-old face, a lot like the way she looked when she was alive. It was how Uncle John and Aunt Leanne knew who she was in her faintness, sending Uncle John’s warm bottle of toolbox beer from hand to floor. He was shocked swear-less for the first and only time, and my cousin’s small pale voice was heard for once. She said what they wanted her to; they can’t be blamed for cows that slip on ice. Then the door opened, the dying sun slid in, and when it hit her bale, she was gone.

[Read more…] about The Depth of Dresses

By Ahmed Altaher

Only solace is felt when your voice is heard. The nature in which its tranquil reverberations hum an eloquent sense of ease, encouraging harmonious stimulation within senses. A soothing sort of bliss in succession, euphoric vibrations course throughout sensibility—the frequency bearing identicality to a euphonic synchronicity of several small bells’ sweet-sounding chimes. How fitting for a lovely belle like yourself.

[Read more…] about An Evanescing Melody

By K.A. Okagaki

She was tragically beautiful, a mythic creature of the sea, entangled in a long-abandoned fishing net. Edging his boat closer, the fisherman realized the truth of her, yet still could not help but feel the pull of love and desire. He severed the netting with a bait knife and pulled the weight of her into the boat, fighting off the tempestuous waves that sought to claim her.

[Read more…] about The Fisherman

By Barry Yedvobnick

Yesterday I analyzed leaves during a perfect afternoon. Fall fascinates me. It turns cold, and the colors metamorphose into something so original, artists struggle to capture it. During a hike with my parents, the sun lasered through breaks in the clouds and ignited the trees like fireworks. I studied the shapes and brilliant pigments of the leaves, searching for a numerical code that could explain their beauty and variability. Until my parents started fighting again.

“You’re supposed to be watching him,” my mother shouted. “He’s staring toward the sun. He’ll burn his retina.”

[Read more…] about Impossible Probabilities

By James Burt

The man in the gorilla costume trudged along the road, each step agony, barely able to keep moving. People watched, a few recording it with their phones. One person clapped, and it sounded hollow and sarcastic. Paul and Cate could hear the man panting as he passed, his discomfort obvious. The costume’s left arm had fallen off somewhere along the way, exposing the runner’s arm below.

[Read more…] about Stragglers