Daily Flash Fiction Stories
By Robert Walicki
“I don’t get it,” Tamra said as she sat at her desk, tearing apart the cinnamon napoleon and sipping the latte Cindy had gotten her from Coffee Tree.
“Low drag,” Cindy said, stuffing her mouth with a pastry. Tamra stared at her, leaning in and waiting for an explanation. Cindy had an annoying habit of not finishing her sentences, as if she was building tension in a soap opera, and she had to pause dramatically before the commercial break.
Continue Reading This StoryBy Mark Piper
Nomos’ pale blue eyes flicked open as its neural interface received the summons to report to the nursery. Looking in the mirror hanging by its stasis cell door, Nomos adjusted a stray strand of its short white hair and whispered in a voice smooth as pureed sorbet. “Duty is beauty.”
Children in bathing suits ran by squealing as Nomos stepped out into the cream-colored corridor. Little B’lisa sat down to tie her shoe, but Nomos was there in a twinkling, laces in its hands.
“Off to the water park, little Bee?”
“Yes.”
“You are too small to use the long slide. You could get hurt.”
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Andy wakes with the energy of the sunbeams sneaking through gaps in the maples outside his window. His seven-year-old body craves sleep, but yesterday, his older brother Emmet repurposed the bedroom curtains into falcon wings.
He pads down the stairs like an elf, careful not to wake his parents who’ll make him wash up before working on his fort. Emmet barrels past with little regard for sleeping parents. One problem with being the younger brother: Emmet has two more years’ practice beating Andy to the kitchen.
Continue Reading This StoryBy Ann Yuan
I never believed in fairy tales until the moment I picked a flower, and it screamed.
At first, I panicked; then I heard a voice that sounded like a lullaby.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I stared at the flower. It was a bright marigold. Upon the velvet petals stood a tiny beautiful girl, dark hair, rosy cheeks, and round shining eyes. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands.
“You’re not dreaming,” she said. “But I’m not Tiny or Thumbelina. My name is Mariana.”
“How did you get here?”
Continue Reading This StoryAfter getting fired from my third job this month (totally not my fault), I went for a walk on the beach. In the sand, I found a gravy boat.
It was totally rusty and gross—antiques are stupid—but I figured I could clean it up and sell it on eBay to some idiot who liked old stuff.
Continue Reading This StoryBy Ben Morales
STRAWBERRY PARFAIT or CERTAIN DEATH. The words on the screen flashed in green and red at pace with Jerry’s heartbeat in the dark, which only made it worse. His ears were still ringing from the gunshot that took his wife’s life.
“What…What the hell is this?” Jerry’s voice cracked and quivered; the words barely escaped his lips. His face was wet with sweat, tears, and snot, but his throat felt dry and bruised. He had been screaming all this time, but now, he could barely whisper a word. He could taste metal on his tongue. The words continued to flash. He could feel a warm wetness touch his knee and leg, and he looked down to see Linda’s pool of blood had already reached him. His mind blanked. The ringing grew louder, and his vision blurred.
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