Flash Fiction Magazine

By Derek Harmening

Ever since the mice arrived, I have given the oven a wide berth. Now it’s cold cuts, microwave dinners, takeout from the dog-eared Thai menu stuck to the fridge. Anything to save me from lighting the gas range. Rodents crave residual warmth, like paupers circling a trash fire.

“Sweet and sour or pad prik king?” I ask my daughter, Marnie, who shrugs.

The first time I glimpsed one—a flick of hairless tail disappearing behind the fuse cover—I told myself I was seeing things. Further scrutiny proved worrisome. Were those crumbs on the stove? Or droppings? Charred bits of pan-fried onion, or signs of infestation?

The torn newsprint behind the broiler, a finely shredded nest of crossword clues and faded obituaries, convinced me. I set to work, plugging the walls with steel wool and spackling paste.

[Read more…] about The Crowded Velvet Cushion

By Michael Belanger

Mr. Abbington didn’t like to smile. In fact, he did everything in his power to avoid it. When he first saw his wife, Mrs. Abbington, and the two glared at each other from across the room at Moody’s Bar and Grill—Mr. Abbington didn’t see anything ironic about the name, and to be honest, hated irony to begin with—he knew he’d met his soulmate.

[Read more…] about Mr. Abbington

By Christopher Bruce

Toby hadn’t changed out of his pajamas in what—a couple weeks? He was beginning to realize he should probably get out more often, and so he went to the Kroger Superstore to shop for groceries.

With some diligent maneuvering through crowded, labyrinthine aisles, Toby managed to fill his cart, and he entered a check-out line. As he waited, he thought, what the hell, why not let some of these other shoppers go ahead?

[Read more…] about The Kindly Grocer

By Mustapha Enesi

Joy seeps through the layers of pain in our lives: massaging the tired muscles that rush through our days, unfurling the sun that lights our paths, letting us flourish. Joy is in the days I chase after Danfo buses with a tray of Agege bread balanced on my head.

[Read more…] about Joy

By SE Zeller

I am rudely reminded each morning, when I pour my first blessed cup of coffee onto the countertop, that I have absolutely no idea what is happening in this world.

I’ve lived some sixty-odd years before this began, you understand—so when I have to remember pre-caffeination—I am more than a touch flummoxed. Without fail, I wait in the warm fuzzy stupor of post-slumber, for the pre-ground Colombian beans, loaded the day before, to blend with water into a singularly delightful substance. I listen comfortably to my expensive plumbed coffee maker, that Bernard had loved ever so much, burble and trickle into the metal insulated pot. The pot is opaque, much like the gravitational process.

[Read more…] about Tilt

By Catherine Jordan

Gone are the happy-go-lucky locals quick to hold up a fist with thumb and pinky extended—the shaka wave. Hang loose. Take it easy. No one does that anymore. Relax—everything is not okay.

I used to be a concierge at the Waikiki resort. I wore shined shoes and expensive button-down shirts, not the bold Monstera print shirts that locals and tourists wore—I thought they were cheesy. Now, shirtless and shoeless, I only have a ripped pair of khaki shorts to my name. Though my name, Eleu, means lively and active, hunger made me feel like a slug, like the bloating bodies on the beach. I probably had another week or two to live, if you wanna call it living. Anyone with a dime to their name left about a month ago when the ground began rumbling. We are now so isolated that communications to and from the island have effectively ceased.

[Read more…] about Bumps in the Road

By Lori Cramer

Andrea stomps upstairs to the bedroom and slams the door. Downstairs, Ollie cranks the TV volume up so loud that the floor beneath Andrea vibrates. Grabbing her phone, she jams in earbuds and paces the room. How could Ollie be so obtuse?

The afternoon sun dims. Andrea’s stomach growls. No way is she going downstairs. Deciding she’ll nap, she curls up on the bed. When she closes her eyes, she sees Ollie’s face flushed with fury. Ollie’s always been an avoider, not an arguer. But this time, she pushed him too far. Forced him to confront the fact that his brother had conned him yet again. Told him she couldn’t bear watching his brother treat him like a fool—and if he wasn’t going to do something about it, she would.

[Read more…] about After the Argument