Issue: April 2008

It was April Fools Day when we launched this issue — and it really felt like it. We had a dyslexic robot, a pack of wild stockbrokers, a disastrous pun, and zombies performing like actors (instead of the usual opposite situation). And a classic flash, of course. If you weren’t having fun, you weren’t hanging out on Flash Fiction Online.

We recognize that some who cope with dyslexia will think we’re making fun of them. Please read Carl’s forward. — Ed.

Entry: The DOG (Dyslexic Geek Organization): In these climes of specialized tubs, it snot atoll surprising there’s a club for...

Nate finished reading the entry, closed the Dyslexicon, and left the library with a growing realization that he must become a part of the DOG. This is his tale. Read more: HTML PDF

Savage, wild, the pack of Stockbrokers tracks its prey, loafers swishing in the shifting sands. For eight days they have been on the move without a kill. For eight days they have barely slept. Gray linen slacks keep them cool in the sweltering days, warm during the bone-chilling nights. Old tickertape streams from worn pockets and drifts to the sand, criss-crossing the terrain like icing on a fiery bun. Read more: HTML PDF

“You both have a very rare condition,” the doctor said to my twin brother and me. “In fact, you two are the fourth and fifth cases ever recorded in the hundred years of Martian inhabitation. It might be caused by something in the well water that effects a small number of people.”

“Can you cure it?” Tommy asked. Read more: HTML PDF

It’s no joke trying to find performers for a stage play since the end of the world. Who’d want to be a casting director in the zombie aftermath?

We’re supposed to be putting on Macbeth at the Royal Theatre. Not my choice; gloomy bloody play if you ask me, but it’s still all the rage for the survivors. You’d think they would want something more upbeat after all that putrid resurrection hoo-hah. Personally, I think half of them are such gormless twits that nobody will notice the difference once they start to zombie, too. Read more: HTML PDF

This is a quaint, odd science-fiction story from 1961 about a composer who goes off-world looking for peace and quiet. I’m still not sure what happened to his piano along the way, but regardless of the reason I’ll still feel less like the ugly American next time I travel to distant lands. — Ed. Read more: HTML PDF