Flash Fiction Magazine

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The Flash Fiction Magazine Interview: Miles White Talks to Miles White

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v3_cover_optMiles White is the author of the flash fiction collections Jesus Loves You but Not Today, Download the Moon, and Zen Pussy Riot, the first three books in his Canvas Sextet. He was interviewed by Miles White, a former writer for USA Today and author of “From Jim Crow to Jay-Z: Race, Rap and the Performance of Masculinity.” They talked by telephone.

Miles: Thank you for talking with me today.

White: Well, it’s a little difficult to get away from you. What would you like to know?

Miles: I wonder if you can tell us exactly what the Canvas Sextet is supposed to be?

White: Sure. It’s a collection of three-minute flash fiction. I write only what I can fit onto a single sheet of paper. That works out to about an 800-word story or a three-minute read. I plan to write 300 stories in two years and publish them in books of 50 stories each. That’s enough for 600 book pages, so that’s a significant body of work. With Zen Pussy Riot, I’m halfway there.
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Coffee with a Friend

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By Tony Lindsay

It was Andrew’s third time bringing her coffee, and Christine’s third time accepting with a smile. It was merely coffee but it felt like more, and she enjoyed feeling the more. Office romances lead to discharges at her company. Her favorite supervisor, Mel, told a woman she looked good enough to eat, and security walked him out twenty minutes later. The men in the office barely said good morning to women, so Andrew bringing her coffee was a little rule-breaking exciting and a little sneaky.
It started when she and Julie were sitting in the break room discussing the horrible office coffee service. She told Julie she would kiss the service guy if he brought some Colombian roasted bean coffee with real hazelnut syrup, cubed sugar, and fresh cream. Julie said she would do a little more than kiss him; they laughed and left. Christine noticed Andrew in the break room but did not think much of it until the next morning.
Tuesday, he walked into her cubicle with a large Colombian roasted bean coffee, three packets of cream, and a small box of cubed sugar.Continue Reading This Story

A Short Life

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By Artemis J Jones

When Bob walked into the gun store, he had no idea of what he was doing. He had never owed a gun, only shot a BB gun when he was a kid, and was not a very good shot. But he was now 65 years old, he had heard about robberies in the area and started thinking he needed to protect himself. Bob never served in the military and, never did anything with law enforcement. He had been an actuary before retirement. He and his wife of 45 years were living one block off the beach in a small cul-de-sac in sunny tropical Florida. The crime rate for his zip code was less than one in thousand on petty crimes and zero per thousand on homicides. Bob went ahead and bought a gun anyway and, took some lessons for a few weeks, although he was still a lousy shot. Continue Reading This Story

Orange

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By Elizabeth Rogers

We are riding trail bikes the old guy next door lets us use ‘cause he never had any sons of his own. He says he gets a thrill outta watching us burn up and down the tracks of what might have been. Rooom room. Growling like starvation between our legs which are almost fully grown. Rooom roooom. Catch us in the sky.
We are riding fast. So fast it seems possible to fly. Gotta soar. The bikes banter. Gas-bagging like they’ve been hitched for fifty years and drought’s on its way so you’d better keep your eyes peeled. They spread their metal wings wind rushing round our shirtless selves ready for anything but nothing and you know it’s always the same. Dirty hands down undies on a third date – dirty hands searching for the deep sweet truth. There’s no sense to the thrill of becoming a man.Continue Reading This Story

42 Mornings

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By Karri L. Moser

She pulled the lever down and added the froth, glancing from the corner of her eye. Ding went the bell. On time, just like every morning. 42 weekday mornings. Today she would ask him out when handing over his coffee. She was shaking, spilling some of the froth. He extended his hand, froth dripped on a new ring he wore. It felt like a dagger when she realized 42 mornings amounted to a morning, or two, too late. He gently wiped the froth from his shining wedding ring, smiled, and walked out of the shop and on with his life. Hers? Well, that was a life that needed to start over on morning 43.

Silence is a Virtue

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By D. Troy Johnson

I retrieved the mail from the mailbox before dad got home. After he got off from work, he searched the kitchen table looking for the mail.
Retrieving a box labeled Viagra; I placed it in my room. My Dad and I watched TV well past mid-night, and after a while, neither of us uttered a word. It was an eerie silence. Then, finally he asked,
“Who got the mail today?” Continue Reading This Story

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