“Please don’t lose this,” I say to the cat-sitter, placing my house key in her palm. “It’s the only one I’ve got left.” 1 The..

“There. No. A little to the right. Yes. Perfect.” My daughter presses the bandage firmly against my skin and I wince at the burning sensation..

A woman puts on her angry coat. It really just springs to her skin as she leaves the house. She starts her walk. She encounters..

I drove under a rainbow on my way home from clerking at the library one summer evening. The clouds I would drive into were brightly..

I pull the mango from the brown paper bag and press it twice with my thumb. Above me, Ethan’s alarm clock buzzes and the kitchen..

When Soki stood in the eastern corner of her terrace, she was hard to spot. Her petite frame fit into the cranny overlooking the main..

Death is total. But only two thirds of the creature who gave her life to become bacon and pork chops is useful. The other 33%..

Two pieces of flash fiction by poet and translator, Allison A. deFreese.

It was the year of strange weather. Whirring blades of Chinooks above him, he rehearsed a monologue sometimes, in preparation for a testimony he felt would be demanded, soon.

The first letter of Georgia’s name was supposed to be a tribute to a dead great grandmother on her father’s side that no one remembered.

A collection of four works of flash fiction presented in the style of four works from a museum.

My wife screams and my daughter’s hair-mottled scalp crowns. The doctor guides my hands and I grasp my daughter, her small body taught and alive,..

Ma at the bookshelves, searching for new knowledge. She takes a novel between her calloused fingertips, rummages through the pages like she’s looking for something..

ATTENTION PASSENGERS: Sorry to startle and disappoint, to inconvenience and annoy, but our priority one is not arrival or commute, it’s code for deliverance of..

Everyone say black is the colour of death.  But Emily know it ain’t true.  Black is the colour of Mama bein’ alive.  It the colour..

The tears came early that night, something she had expected. She had felt it building all day, a jagged boulder against her chest, sliding deeper..

When I first see it, I shudder. The knuckles are wrinkled and gnarly. The skin is gray. The middle finger tilts too far to the..

I remember the last time I saw my father. He left for war and died a short time later, a Marine helicopter pilot, flying in..

A lock of strawberry blonde hair peeking out from under a fuzzy winter hat freezes me in the grocery store parking lot. The hat is..

Inspired by an Oneida Tribal Tale and a Selection from the Longer Story, “Cloven” On a stormy summer night just like this one, just around..

Sidestep the puddle that stretches from one side of the sandy road to the other, up to the lip of the cement doorstep. Knock on..