The Fish Room
By Jennifer AndersonI snuck down there evenings he worked at the sawmill, to the lath and concrete room where he gutted perch, tossing tails to the cat.
Tattered Little Father
By Taylor OrenI keep a photo of a stranger. I rescued him out of an estate sale cigar box. He looked the most like me.
An Honest Mistake
By Michael SomesI walked into the wrong apartment coming back from work, and someone else’s wife embraced me.
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.
Photo Story: Imaginary Number
By Shara ConcepciónBefore the necktie hung itself, a knot doing unto me what the body did; before the engine, fuel wound, light, I was the instrument and the song, un-living on the vocal cord of God, an imaginary number on a line I couldn’t see.
Great Composers of the American Popular Song
By Lina ChernA window opens on a forest: trees, moonlight, a path. You’ve been here before: the knot in a pine becomes a long-lost face, the veil of leaves a scarf of blue silk.
The Evergreen
By Tara RamseyHannah's motorcycle fishtails on wet pavement before she goes down. This is it.
Photo Story: Cutting Lines
By Kathryn PallantIt was her father’s favorite station: polished marble, vaulted ceiling, windows straight from a mansion house. Just like the best library he ever went to, but never had time for until the end.
Backyard Aristotle
By Leonard KressIn this morning’s backyard drama the tiny green bird has crashed into the glass of the sliding door and lies feet up and claw-splayed on the brick patio.
