Stories tagged flash-fiction

Fall Apart Stuff

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He is snoring inside the silo of his throat. The inside there shines golden but that’s not the truth. There is something caught below the gold.

Baby Love

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She wanted one, she said. She wanted one who looked like me. I wanted one, because I wanted her. I wanted her for everything; I wanted her to fill every crack and space inside of me.

To See the World in a Grain of Sand

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What’s it like, sex? I ask her. You see that picture? she asks, nodding to the large canvas covered with a film of dust propped up against her bedroom wall. That picture’s the only thing she never sold. She hocked it a few times but always got the


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We both lost our appetites, her sense of taste destroyed by the tide of smoke sweeping across her tongue, wiping out her taste buds. Mine was limited to the four tastes the tongue alone could discern,


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Her letter ends with her best words: No one will ever love you like I do. Beneath, she draws a heart, sad eyes, two jewel tears. Yours forever, Dawn. Hole by hole, not to wake her sister, she pulls the paper free, creases, folds again, then cuts…

Spike. Resonance.

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Under the Dempster El and off in an alley, the girl taps the vein. The buildings moan. Thirty below wind chill, and the girl's jacket is cast aside. Her pupils dilate. “My mother, my mother, on this night, my mother, she died,” she says. …

The Cougar

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Johnny puts another whiskey in front of me. Except for him, me, and Petey, the bar's empty. "You hear about that up in Wilmette?" he asks."No, what?" I say."A cougar. People say they saw a cougar.""Bullshit.""No shit. Was in the Sun Times this morning.""Sun Times ain't…


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As he smoked, a red-shafted flicker hammered away at the top of a barren hemlock. Rapidfire bangbangs echoed off the low-hanging cavey clouds. Drawing on the zigzag, he thought back to the last time they'd had sex. His mind wanted to correct himself, to say made love,…

Smoked Secretly

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Jerry smoked secretly. The habit had formed some thirty years before in humid jungles, and he'd never kicked the craving nor the need to hide it. Sitting on his back porch in the wee hours of the morning, overlooking the neighborhood's shared greenbelt, h

Pink Fuzzy Bunny Slippers

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I’m not sure if it’s Punkin or her pink fuzzy bunny slippers that I love.

On the Berm

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She sits on the berm with her arms folded over her knees, her chin resting atop her forearm. In posture, we could be twins. We both have our knees drawn up to our chests as we look out over the pond.

Chewing Used Gum

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On Tuesday, no ant will sting. On Tuesday, burlap becomes silk and math is vegetable simple.


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When Owen walked into the kitchen, he saw a rat the size of a Tonka truck in front of the refrigerator. Peanut Butter Captain Crunch, milk, a glass of soda. A weekend with his Dad. That's all he wanted. Not this. He called his father…


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We are in search of free hor d’oeuvres, me and Jane – Jane from H.R., Jane who is exactly as plain as her name implies, Jane, who, for now anyway, for this company retreat, is my kindred spirit in broke-ass hangover land.


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Her breath hissed through the orange ember of the cigarette. “Where do you want it, baby?” she asked him.