Guilt
By Ruben Adkinswhen the fish swallows the hook, the night falls, dragging purple down into the belly of the sea.
PTSD
By Ron RiekkiMy girlfriend wipes her makeup off. We just fought. She wipes her face off, skin flapping.
Apocalyptic River
By Fred MuratoriWe picnicked by the sullen river, its water brown, opaque and dense enough for starving frogs to flop across.
Photo Story: All Things Bright and Beautiful
By Max CardwellUnder northern skies in a hotel bed he is shifting in tidal sleep, from foyer bar oblivion.
Jimmy Leaves a Message and Considers Nautical Miles
By Jason MarakHi, Delta. You're not taking my calls. Maybe you don't have a signal. Either way. Just wanted to tell you keep clear of me.
The Lineup
By Michele BergerRicky drags Derek, out of his hiding place, into the lineup with the other neighborhood boys.
You Couldn’t Wait to Leave This Town
By Jennifer HandleyConcrete steps rise from pebbly cracked sidewalks, but go, absurdly, nowhere. Into the boards of a fence, or the sunless dirt beneath a low tree limb.
Passing Lane
By M.J. IuppaSally was the twin who took chances. A cherry-lipped brunette with a Louise Brook’s bob, she turned heads in traffic.
Photo Story: The Abominable
By Michael SnyderLucy could bend even the smallest rays of light to her will. She created her own humidity, burrowed deep, and made dormant things grow.
Sherrie Flick: Finding Truth in Compression
Why did we interview Sherrie Flick? First, we loved Sherrie Flick’s recent story collection, Whiskey, Etc. Second, we’ve heard a lot of great things about Sherrie from others in the flash fiction community, such as, "Wow, you have to read Sherrie Flick's flash," and "She's an amazing food writer." Third, we wished we would have asked her questions about Pittsburgh, but fortunately she told us about a road trip she’d have with Gertrude Stein.
Sweetie Pie
By Sherrie FlickI started calling both my dog and husband Sweetie Pie the same year my husband found my lover’s cashmere sock.
Salient Sounds
By Connor WalshBack when I was young enough to invent and trust in my own Boy Scout knot, I tied a tape-recorder to a turtle’s shell and set it free.
Invite Him In, Ask For Help
By Simon JimenezThe zipper began at the nape of her neck. With thumb and forefinger, he pulled, slow, drawing out the sound of the unraveling of caught teeth.
