Flash Fiction Magazine

By Anastasia Petrenko

The look of her hands frighten me. They are peppered with red, pink, and purple wounds, from small cuts to husky burns, stretching from her fingertips to her elbows. Between the wounds flow swollen blue veins and berthed brown aging spots that blight the picture.

“Where? How?” I ask her.

“Gloves tear,” she answers.

[Read more…] about A Whirlwind

By Gail Mackenzie-Smith

1. Don’t burn the steak, you stupid bitch.
2. Only leave the house when absolutely necessary after a beating. A bruised cheek can be hidden with a mask these days, but don’t even think about putting makeup on a black eye. That only works in the movies.
3. Stop hoping he’ll stop.
4. Believe it when you’re told that he killed his first wife and got away with it. Comfort Brad, the stranger who warns you, when he breaks down and reveals that the dead woman was his sister.
5. Holding ice to the throbbing pink hand mark on your face, swear to him on your mother’s grave that you’ll never bring up divorce again.
6. Be on high alert for his escalating anger now. Call Brad after you survive a push down the stairs.
7. Make a plan.
8. Physical displays of affection in front of the neighbors are now critical. Hold his hand on the way to the car. Kiss him when he carries the groceries in. Don’t flinch when he touches you.
9. Order an elaborate flower arrangement with his credit card. Make sure it contains peonies and foxgloves. Tell the florist to sign the note, “To my beautiful wife, Jen. I love you.”
10. Make sure your friends are there when the flowers arrive. Blush happily when they ooh and ahh with jealousy at the extravagant bouquet.
11. Wear a hat and sunglasses when you meet Brad at a movie theater two towns away. Hide the package he gives you in the back of your closet.
12. Chuck the EpiPen and bottle of Benadryl from your bathroom in the dumpster behind Handi-Mart.
13. Bring the flowers upstairs to your bedroom. Kiss him goodnight and wait until he falls asleep. Open the window, then open the mason jar that Brad gave you. Free the bees. Watch them buzz around the flowers. Watch as one lands on his arm. Watch the stinger pierce his skin. Watch him wake up gasping for breath as his throat closes. Watch him stumble into the bathroom and rummage in the drawer for his EpiPen. Watch as realization dawns, and he looks at you. Lock eyes with him and smile. Watch him move towards you then fall.
14. Take a sleeping pill after you confirm he’s no longer breathing.
15. Scream like your life depends on it when you find his body in the morning. Play to the back of the house, so neighbors three streets over can hear you.
16. Cry like a B movie actress at the funeral.
17. Meet Brad at the grave with a bouquet of peonies. Watch as Brad’s dog, Sunny, defecates on the grass in front of the grave. Leave it for the groundskeepers to clean up.

By Michael Craig Rhodes

Their trailers and houses weren’t like the suburban ranch where I lived, and the toys the kids didn’t have weren’t either.

They were blood though, my mother’s brothers and sisters and their families. Yet, they might have been strangers, they were so different.

[Read more…] about Mama’s Side

By James Ostime

One morning, Julian realized he didn’t care anymore. To that end, he turned the shower off before he applied his conditioner. Let his hair be unconditioned. Rather than use his threadbare bath towel, he took Michael’s beach towel from what his boyfriend had dubbed “the Summer Closet ” and wrapped himself up. Then he turned up the thermostat and decided he would let the heat dry him off. Let the bill be high.

[Read more…] about Afflicted

By Ashley Holloway

My eyes search in vain for a pattern in the bumpy vermiculite of the popcorn ceiling above me. With a head full of bees, I am acutely aware of the spherical shape of my eyes. Sandpapery. Oh, the wonders of alcohol and how well it keeps you aloft in its tide, like an adult-only set of metaphorical water wings. Until the next morning, when I expected to see fur on my tongue.

Another morning, waking up to a lonely kitchen, my spouse and I operate in a kind of Venn diagram where our circles only overlap where dishes are concerned. The irony of matrimony and mortgages.

[Read more…] about Love Is Just a Word until Someone Gives It Meaning

By Amie McGraham

Serene surveyed the bookstore, spotting Harry as he waddled toward the front row. Perfect. The rusty chairs spanning the room were mostly empty; turnout was even sparser than the reading she’d held at the tiny library on the island last week. That was okay. What mattered most was that Harry was there.

[Read more…] about Ebb Tide

By Amelia Bowes - Foster

Xavier stood on the rusted, moss-strewn farmer’s cart that had been retired decades before, shrieking delightedly at the cacophony of creaks and rattles that occurred whenever his feet slammed down on the center of it.

“Remember what Mama said, Xay,” called Ketsana. “That old cart wasn’t made for jumping, and I don’t want you to fall.”

[Read more…] about The Missionary’s Smile