Featured Writing

An old piano with a chipped key.

Cleo in 3⁄4 Time

By William Reeves It was always about the eighty-eight black and white keys, the foot pedals, the rhythm, the synchronicity between the left hand bass clef and the right hand treble clef notes. It was about the chords, the sharps, flats, naturals and the time signatures. It was never about…

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Posts Tagged flash fiction

Large, empty classroom

Suffer the Lacerated Children

by Khristy L. Knudtson I spend five days of my seven educating teenagers pretending I’m not an emotional delinquent with the same “mommy issues” as the boy with the overgrown yellow hair in the back row with the newly minted scars.  He radiates pain like a nuclear bomb everywhere he…

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For When You Ask What I Am

by Elaine Granados I am escaping into the hallway, letting #401’s door thud behind, closing on heavy heat open windows could never lift and the constant smell of black beans cooking, on sirens and horns of Koreatown (before Starbucks and Target on the corner), on the buzzing in my head,…

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Sugar Puffs

by Janna Brooke Wallack The tiny genie flew up from the bottom of the cereal box and hovered over the table, eye-level with the cop. “You’re a thinker, Sal. I dig that,” he said, his little wings fluttering. “But you’ve got fifteen minutes, bro.” Sal could wish homes for the…

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Things That Go THUMP in the Night

by Jeffery Williams Somewhere in the distance, there resonates familiar THUMP BUMP noises of clumsy little feet. In a bedroom, down a hall, in the kitchen, down the stairs, above my head, in my head, somewhere there is enthusiasm and mischief stirring. Here at the very bottom floor, surrounded by…

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Awake v. Alive

by Taylor Banuchie It’s time. I’m prostrate before a glowing figure, so spectacularly bright that my eyes combust, merely ashes now in my fire-pit sockets. I reach out in supplication, and Ascendance reaches back. Our fingertips touch, and we disappear into each other. I don’t miss my eyes because I…

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Boomerang and Sadie

by Cynthia Roby Boomerang was Sadie’s man, and he got his name by definition: Every time she threw the lying cheater out, she’d cry, howl, and moan, all before that need-to-satisfy ache in her groin pried her thighs apart and let her Boomer back in—until the dag-gone fool never returned….

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Me and Jack

by Sarah Leslie We were the only two who could ever get into your head. Jack convinced you I manipulated you. But all he ever did was flush away reason and stir up a rage. It was never easy to pick between the two of us. You and Jack went…

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