Flash Fiction Magazine

By Myles Wren

“So sorry for your loss,” said a man Dena sort of recognized.
She reached up from where she sat and took the hand he offered.
“Thank you so much for coming.”
He shuffled to his left, and the same routine played out with Dena’s sister, Valerie.
When he took another step to where their mother was sitting, he crouched down, extended his arm and placed his hand on her shoulder to try to console the crying woman.
“She was a wonderful, wonderful person. You were blessed to have her as your mother.”
She placed her hand over his and nodded without looking up.
Dena looked to her left and saw no one had just entered the funeral home. This was her opportunity. She tapped Valerie’s arm and signaled she was going to use the bathroom again.
Valerie rolled her eyes.
Two steps in to her trip, she grabbed her phone from her bag and clicked on it, but saw there was no activity. Putting it away, she walked past a circle of relatives.
“Dena, honey, you really do look wonderful. You’ve grown up to be such a beautiful woman,” said her Aunt Margie, who was paraphrasing what she’d said about 40 minutes earlier.
Dena smiled politely and continued on to the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror, she had to agree with Aunt Margie. She did look good today. Out came the phone again for a quick photo. [Read more…] about Altruistic Selfies

By Megan Hergenreder

The beautiful vacation in a lush and hidden resort brought a smile to her face, yet even the make-up couldn’t hide the cracks of sorrow across her ivory appearance, yet another failed attempt to spark their dying marriage. She couldn’t blame him though. He had married her for her stunning beauty and she said those faulty words “I do” for money. Women use to marry for the green in acres meaning more food. Today though a woman marries for the green in a man’s bank account. Was that selfish? Or was it for security? The ability to breath easy knowing the world’s worries aren’t on your shoulders was worth giving up your ability to truly smile. Her trim shoulders slump as she blankly stares across the vivid green. Maybe happiness is worth more… [Read more…] about Mask

By Darren Cormier

“I will outrace the wind.”
“And then where will you be?”
“I will tie a bow around the moon.”
“Someone did that before.”
“I will slow the rain.”
“But what if there’s a drought?”
“I will drive across the ocean.”
“I don’t think your car would make it.”
“I will swim across the ocean.”
“(yawn)”
“I will turn all your troubles into a jelly bean tree.”
“I’m diabetic.”
“I can only give you my time.”
“I got my watch fixed last week.”
“I will listen to you.”
“But you’re still here.”

By James Roderick Burns

He gets up, turns off the lamp and walks slowly to the kitchen. When the strip light comes on it illuminates the hands of a dirty white clock – four fifty-eight, give or take – and he fills the kettle for a final cup of tea. In the yard a bird cheeps then alights on the narrow wall between his house and the house of the man next door. It is almost time for his neighbour to be up and around.

As the kettle boils he watches the sky and thinks about routines.

In college (forestry) and vacations (poverty) he shinned up a hundred-foot tower to watch for forest fires. Ten days on, ten off, at least until the last of the semester’s money ran dry and he retreated to the tower for weeks at a time. College in another country was a bustling adventure but up there he welcomed the solitude, the spareness and sky. On fine days he could see out to a distant strip of coast and beyond it to the headland, a wisp of blue. At night the stars waved like friends disappearing over the horizon.
[Read more…] about The Man Next Door

By Lester L Weil

John-Boy and Erin are arguing. I can’t quite figure out why, but it doesn’t matter. I just like to watch John-Boy and all the Waltons on the TV. It reminds me of our farm back in Kentucky when I was a boy. And I especially like to watch Olivia. Livvy reminds me of my Emma. They have the same smile. I remember when we first met back in high school. She was the pretty girl who—

“Hello Papa.”

I turn. I don’t know who it is.

“It’s Jason, Papa. How are you today.”
[Read more…] about Looking for John-Boy