were summer help. Temps. Red hats. High school heroes bound for college. They trained us to pull and stack lumber. 2×4’s and 2×6’s from the green chain. Rough cut. Heavy. Tools of our trade were…
Browsing Category Flash Fiction Feature
Nobody Blessed the Concrete City by Adam Crittenden
The only time I visited Times Square a stranger with a limp brushed my arm and I can best describe the touch as sideways—a disorienting touch that vibrated like a distant gunshot—and it revealed one…
You Become a Cartoon Fox by Doug Cornett
The moment you become a cartoon fox, you feel a warm fluidity to your bones. You look down at yourself and discover you are wearing a scarlet vest and orange pantaloons, bouncing through some neon…
Wood Duck by Ross McMeekin
The rest are mallards, but then there’s this other one. You’ve never heard your boyfriend use the word plumage before, never iridescent. You wonder how many other words he keeps hidden, waiting for an object…
Sleep by Kurt Mueller
The doctor asked if I wanted to do it. I didn’t answer. He pushed the needle under her skin and depressed the plunger and she didn’t move, didn’t raise her head to look at me…