Flash Fiction

Wondering what happened to Picks of the Week and Poetry Week? See the announcement below.

In this week’s flash fiction showcase are four talented ladies, and one gentleman, from five unique publications. You might find the images of Erika Eckart’s “Birds” disturbing, but it’s the consequences of witnessing their inability to escape that catapults this piece to a different level. In “Cool” by Mary Lynn Reed, we meet a young man who finds his place in society is along the edge, and is happy that way. “Eclipse” by Claudia Smith, is beautifully written. The narrator is a strong girl, and her story about her absent father is both sad and uplifting. Shellie Zacharia’s “Drive By” is a romp. Her voice has a great edgy tempo. Finally, “Four Monologues” by Ben Greenman is smart. Just plain fricking smart.

Click on the links, and enjoy!

Birds by Erika Eckart
published by Double Room

Once they returned from a long trip and found dozens of dead birds. They flew in the chimney, and, after inspecting the house, none could remember how they’d come in.

Cool by Mary Lynn Reed
published by elimae

Bobby told him to stop with the lighter fluid but Gary thought it looked cool. The flames whipping up like lascivious tongues, lapping at the wind.

Eclipse by Claudia Smith
published by FRiGG

My father sends me pieces of the letter in postcards. The first card says, I am in and then the second says Poland even though he sent it from Toronto. Which, maybe he doesn’t know this, but is just as foreign to me as Poland.

Drive By by Shellie Zacharia
published in juked

I see you, Janie, I see you on the side of the road with your car, just a few miles from home. I see how you’re kicking at your flat tire with your high-heeled boots. I wonder if you’ll break a toe. I wonder if you planned it, the tight white t-shirt on a gray day, threatening skies, storm clouds pooling.

Four Monologues by Ben Greenman
published by Opium

Bush
You try having a father who isn’t equal to you in size. It’s not easy. His boots are always bigger. His hands are always bigger. At fifteen I find my voice is deeper and at first that’s a victory that can’t be measured. I feel like I have taken on the free world and won, or that I am the free world, taking on the rest of the world.