Flash Prose Archives - Page 2 of 5

Necessary Shadows / Flowercrackers / Empty Stomach Full Belly

June 8, 2020/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2020 / Vikram Ramakrishnan

Since Paati died, fireworks were the only thing that could get Thatha up and out of bed, and the goggles were the only thing that let Amma let us keep watching the shows.[…]

Before the Shrine of My Fermentation Cabinet

June 7, 2020/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2020 / Hannah Suchor

I crouch before the fermentation cabinet every other morning to check on my scoby, the color of my kraut, to smell the bacterial funk, and each time I am transported.[…]

Two Ways

November 30, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2020 / Antonia Angress

Doll Code

November 30, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2020 / Amy Lyons

Hematophogous Creatures

November 30, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2020 / Melinda Bezdek

Rowboat

November 30, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2020 / Josh Krigman

The First One

November 30, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2020 / Matthew Mastricova

Everything In Its Right Place

November 21, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2020 / Emily James

Rainbow’s End

November 21, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2020 / Och Gonzalez

The Habits of Great Predators

November 21, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2020 / Michael Schoch

Pinned Butterflies

November 18, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2020 / Jenn Powers

Bread

May 31, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2019 / by Genevieve Abravanel

[fiction] One morning, there are people in her house. Caren lives alone. She never married and her last long-term thing ended five years ago. She’s fine. She likes it: those early hours sipping coffee, her cat, Guster, winding through her bare legs. She can wear her rattiest t-shirts, hum off-key while getting ready. But now […]

Like the Fourth Finger of My Left Hand

May 29, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2019 / by Laura English

[creative nonfiction] So damned sick of delicate things. My co-worker who was raped over and over. I want to time travel, tell his five-year-old self, Punch your father’s friend in the face the next time he touches you. Don’t say resilience. Children are breakable. I’m tired of my toe poking through the sock printed with […]

A Mountain of Invertebrates

May 28, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2019 / by Christopher Gonzalez

[fiction] Austin orders an entire seafood boil for himself. He ignores the crawfish and halved cobs of corn, focusing instead on the crab legs, which he cracks open with such force the buttery juices mist Jorge’s face. Jorge’s plate is nearly empty now. He had devoured his crispy-fried cod sandwich in five minutes and spends […]

Patty Cakes

May 27, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2019 / by Richard Graddis

[fiction] I awoke from an exquisite dream. That pissed me off right there, cause in my dream, I was being devoured by love. When I flip the switch, a billion fucking cockroaches scatter. Naturally, I go batshit crazy, careening around the room, stomping and cursing. Now the neighbors are up. “Hey, cut that shit out!” […]

A Compendium of Earthquakes

May 25, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2019 / by Hope Henderson

[creative nonfiction] The first one was in the egg shop. I was a baby, strapped to my mother’s back in a blue nylon carrier while she wandered Kotwali bazaar. Shelves of eggs, a single room with three walls and a pull-over aluminum door. All of the eggs broke. After the shaking stopped, the street dogs […]

Upward Snow

May 24, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2019 / by Whitney Lee

[creative nonfiction] She is sitting in an arm chair next to a broad window that overlooks Fairbanks Avenue and Lake Michigan. She ignores me as I walk from the doorway, across her hospital room, then perch on the broad windowsill. I welcome the cold of metal as the sensation seeps through my white coat, then […]

Camellias in Black and Gray

May 18, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2019 / by Danielle Batalion Ola

[fiction] I know I want Lea the way I do long before she pulls me into her room, but the way she shrugs the button-up off her shoulders still undoes me. She closes the door, reaching up and over her head to tear a wad of gauze off her back. She makes the white pad […]

Trust Me, Iago

May 16, 2019/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2019 / by Kevin Tasker

[fiction] It is Laurie’s cross to bear, this cat that’s found a home in her abdomen. From its nature it must be a Bengal. It is frighteningly active at night. Laurie will be at a Meditation of Surveillance seminar, and she’ll feel it lunge at her stomach wall. Or she’ll be in the kitchen getting […]

How to Brew Tea for a Funeral

November 23, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2019 / by J.M. Ellison

Send one of your five sons out into the night to turn on the generator. Wait for its whir to wake the village. Strike a match and light the largest burner on the gas stove. Fill the gallon teapot to the brim. While the water simmers, reach for the canister of herbs. It is autumn, so select the za’atar, not the mint. Add the loose-leaf tea. Stir in sugar until it stops dissolving.

Plastic

November 23, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Corey Farrenkopf

[fiction] The dead body of a sunfish lies on the sands of Monomoy Wildlife Refuge. More than any other ocean dweller, sunfish are mistaken for sea monsters. It’s why two dozen tourists ring its pulpy white body, nearly a perfect circle with twin fins on top and bottom, stomach pecked crimson by hungry gulls. The […]

Magic

November 23, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Jose Francisco Fonseca

[fiction] Estoy corriendo on a dirt road feeling the right side of my face swelling up. Brittle and stiff mesquite se rodearon el camino. Trailers float on the mesquite milas aparte, solos, escuchando los vultures crowing as they circle. And montaña morenas stand silent squatting el cielo azul on their jagged backs. Oigo un grito and a […]

O’er the Fields

November 23, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Andie Francis

[creative nonfiction] It was true it was Christmas. It was my first day in Phnom Penh. My boyfriend bought our tickets for Cheong Ek, a genocide memorial site. Yes, perhaps I was an artist when I agreed. My boyfriend adjusted the headphones, his best friend took a Klonopin. The tour began with facts. A curator’s […]

The Boy Who Loved Red Bishops Too Much

November 23, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Raj M. Isaac

[fiction] When he was nine, he tried to catch a couple. He thought the Red Bishops, with their striking red and black plumage, would look lovely in his cage. He sat high on his perch in the mango tree, watching them fly wild and free, chirping busily, in and out of the reeds in the […]

Butterfly

November 23, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2019 / by Sanjana Raghavan

[fiction] How do I explain the butterfly if I don’t explain the heat? My sister and I were walking to the corner store to buy snacks with money from my grandma, who was dying. She had been dying for as long as I could remember though, so it didn’t really bother me. What did bother […]

The Four Walls

November 23, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Winter-Spring 2019 / by D.H. Valdez

[fiction] There is a room with twenty desks. Five across, four deep. “Small class size. You should feel lucky,” the principal tells him. Each desk with a book: America the Beautiful: A Sweeping History 1776-2027. Red, white, blue, and all in mint condition. They better stay that way, for his sake. The desktops are all […]

Mardi Gras Beads

May 30, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2018 / by Janice Dvorak

[creative nonfiction] Greg and I stroll the picnic grounds, slowly because it is my first post-surgical outing. His annual company picnics are always themed: Wild West with pony rides and barbeque and lasso contests; Summer Camp with canoeing and hot dogs; Carnival with actual fairway rides and cotton candy. This year, it’s Renaissance Faire, so […]

Claws

May 30, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2018 / by Allison Wyss

[fiction] Crusted half moons smeared down my thigh, bled through my tights in long, whispery scratches. Thigh skin bulged through tears in the fabric. When I ripped the tights off, blood pulled with them and the wounds were scab-less, fresh again. I wrestled on old jeans, jerked up one side, then the other, inched them […]

How to Love Your Child Without Your Neighbor Reporting You to Child Services

May 30, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2018 / by Christopher Allen

[fiction] Til has just fallen asleep when an elderly woman bends down to the stroller and gushes, “What a putty baby. Dat a putty baby.” He’s asleep, I whisper, and could she please just fucking move along, too low for her to hear the violence in me I guess, because she’s just getting started. “Putty […]

Picking Out Bananas

May 30, 2018/in Flash Prose, Flash Prose, Summer-Fall 2018 / by Jeff Hoffmann

[creative nonfiction] Now I’m able to just state the facts: My daughter goes to a school in the city, my son goes to the public high school. I try to leave it at that. I no longer feel compelled to go into all the rest. Before my daughter started coming home for visits, when she […]

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