Flash Fiction Magazine

By Julie Babb

Before driving our school bus, Ramon drove a garbage truck. For many years, his route took in the elite homes of Mexico City and hurt his heart. He’d never been a rich man, and he knew to waste was to want. Often, on his rounds, he would net quite a catch of serviceable items—sometimes clothing and shoes for his growing family of “six-and-a-half kids,” he’d say. His customers in their elegant homes behind the locked gates wanted for nothing and wasted everything.

[Read more…] about Before the Bus

By Ashley McCurry

We were walking through downtown Iowa City, past our favorite coffee shop and the dumpsters that were always stinking of rotting meat. There was a steakhouse on the first floor of that building, and the stench of decaying animal carcass became my most vivid sensory recollection of the city. I would often stroll by the restaurant window, observing the couples chattering with half-empty glasses of gin-and-vodka-infused ice, stretched smiles like pink gashes across their taut faces.

[Read more…] about That Time My Husband Disappeared at the Pedestrian Mall

By Amrita Khadilkar

I broke into my own house twenty minutes ago. Now I hide in the basement, crouching behind the sofa like a common thief.

Well, technically this is not my house anymore, even though I remember the smallest, oddest things about it—the dim light that used to hang on this roof before I renovated it, the stubborn water stain on the wall that had to be hidden behind furniture, the creaky spot on the bedroom floor…

[Read more…] about Memories

By Pam Walters

My minimalist friend, Suzanne, is urging me to let her reorganize my tiny kitchen.

“When’s the last time you used this?” she asks as she hoists my KitchenAid mixer up onto the counter. I’ve been storing it under the sink with the cleaning supplies. “And what did you use it for?”

[Read more…] about Letting Go Of The Dream

By Peter J Hill

I met Shona at a climbing wall event for charity, organized by an online forum dedicated to rock climbing. I’d not really engaged with her online: she described herself as a “lurker”—someone who logged on and read what others were saying—although she rarely contributed herself. Apparently, she’d had an unpleasant experience being trolled on another forum. I felt that she was much too nice to deserve being trolled, and, when I met her face-to-face, I told her so. I also said that she didn’t come across as the “lurking” type. I remember how she giggled in response. She was enchanting.

[Read more…] about Shona

By Ali Raza

A reverent hush descends over all present. A boisterous crowd is reduced to whispers and silence. In a matter of seconds, they will either roar with jubilance or bewail a missed opportunity.

My legs feel wooden, laden with lactic-acid. I close my eyes and imagine my spirit soaring, if I can just pull this off. I’m staring at my opponent jumping up and down, poking faces at me and spreading his arms wide. I’ve got nothing to counter his psychological warfare except a cold, steely stare.

[Read more…] about Renewed Zeal

By Matt Poll

You shouldn’t judge me for my decision. I died in the hospital, but they brought me back, like one of those television shows. And when I died, I was out there…out there…and I got to choose. Out there was a lovely green meadow, teeming with birds. It was early spring. I chose to give my horrible burden to someone else. I chose to be a cowbird.

[Read more…] about I Chose the Cowbird