by Wallace Kaufman
By Lucy Ferriss
by Mark Halpern
By Julia Gardner
and your dreamy neon lights,
Nascar cab drivers indifferent to my safety belts,
you’ve always given me a bed,
at times it’s been a park bench,
but if you couldn’t get me home you always woke me up
We’re looking to read and share work of flash fiction and nonfiction (under 1000 words). Please send material to us at email@example.com with “Flash Fiction” in the subject. This will probably be for sharing in digital format only. Cheers!
Then again came the voice that could silence me. The American professor who was the director of the expedition, Irene Demas. She had my left upper incisor in her shorts pocket.
Paris by Carol Alena Aronoff Paris was always more than Paris: the light of Monet’s garden illuminating Renoir’s picnic, the playgrounds of Matisse, Lautrec. Art drunk with croissants every morning on lace-covered tables with forsythia blooms in cerulean, the aroma of burnt sienna- cups brimming with water lilies, pure ambrosia soft like ripe brie. The […]
The tea ceremony is called Attaya. The first round is strong and bitter, the second sweeter with a hint of mint, and the third round is sweet and minty. It mirrors friendship, which grows over time to reflect how the longer we know each other the sweeter the relationship becomes. What happens most during Attaya, however, is talk. We consume conversation. We talk about the rain, if there is any, the wind, which is more common, and the oppressive sun. And the villagers return to their natural spaces, rest or sleep peacefully. I leave the fire wondering if I had enough materials to tunnel to Mauritania. I just can’t sleep.
Somehow we were always expecting something like this, a strange wind off the Atlantic, moaning and cursing and full of old hurts, tearing shingles from roofs and slamming birds against windows, threatening to fling us, too, into another country