Flash Fiction Online

The Times That Bleed Together

2 Feb 2010 00:00:01 EST

Today, the world ends.

Tuesday last, Reed grabs his best friend’s shoulders and says, “You’ve got to stop this.”

Luke looks at him and wonders why Reed is the only person in the world who hasn’t changed.

Three years ago, it starts with Luke covered in blood that is not his own...

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Pêlos

2 Feb 2010 00:00:01 EST

Lydia turned out the light, picked up her backpack and opened her window. She was expecting the gust of cool night air, the smell of freedom and the call of the dance floor. She was not expecting the shower of gold.

“Ow!” She threw her pack up as a shield from the heavy, glittering hail. “Son of a—ow!”

Lydia swung her backpack through the air,...

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Six Reasons Why My Sister Hates Me

2 Feb 2010 00:00:01 EST

My sister Chiru has beautiful, rich, warm brown skin. Mine is like onionskin paper, yellowed and dry and fragile. The few wisps of hair that grow on my scarred scalp mock the thick, black waves that fall past her shoulders and would grow to her waist if she let it. She is poised and correct in her posture, where I am bowed and curled like a crescent.

She is perfect and I am flawed, and she hates me.

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Six One-Sentence Stories

2 Feb 2010 00:00:01 EST

This collection of six one-sentence stories serves as an exemplar for Short-short Sighted #19. I would put up a teaser here, but they're so short that doing so would give away a sizeable part of the collection. —Ed.

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The Five Boons Of Life

2 Feb 2010 00:00:01 EST

In the morning of life came a good fairy with her basket, and said:

“Here are gifts. Take one, leave the others. And be wary, choose wisely; oh, choose wisely! for only one of them is valuable.”

The gifts were five: Fame, Love, Riches, Pleasure, Death. The youth said, eagerly:

“There is no need to consider”; and he chose Pleasure.

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In This Issue

2 Feb 2010 00:00:01 EST

Numbers, numbers: in The Times That Bleed Together, the Six Reasons My Sister Hates Me, Bruce Holland Rogers’s Six One-Sentence Stories. Mark Twain even has a story—not a funny one—about The Five Boons Of Life. (Non-math types can check out Pêlos instead.) And don’t miss Bruce’s writing column.

Finally, the Preditors & Editors results are in. (Thanks to everyone who voted!)

Our next issue goes live on March 2. Meanwhile, comment, subscribe, and tip the authors. Thanks!

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A Story of n Words: How Low Can You Go?

2 Feb 2010 00:00:01 EST

In this column, Bruce Holland Rogers discusses the shortest of very short stories, and tackles, along the way, the topic, “Just what is a story, anyway?”

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Caltrops

5 Jan 2010 00:00:01 EST

We hit the spikes on Interstate 40 East in Texas, soon after the second-largest freestanding cross in the Western hemisphere dropped over the horizon and disappeared from our rearview mirror, along with the giant thing crucified on it. (All the faded tourist-trap signs claim that cross is the largest, but I look into these things, and I know the cross in Effingham, Illinois actually has a wider armspan.)

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Hungry

5 Jan 2010 00:00:01 EST

Quiet. You sit quiet as a mouse in the corner. Push a little doll around and hum la-la-la so they forget you’re there while they have the cocktail hour.

That’s how you find out they’re killing Grandma.

Not a single bite to eat or a swallow of water. Your mother is killing her mother.

That’s their favorite punishment for you, too.

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Last Bites

5 Jan 2010 00:00:01 EST

The wake held for Sven Müeller at Karloff’s Funeral Home in Queens, New York, was completely unremarkable until a tiny nephew of Sven’s was lifted to kiss his uncle good-bye, but instead bit off the dead man’s nose. Women shrieked and strong men fainted and, when the toddler continued to chew and swallow the nose, his mother dropped him and vomited.

But the boy just grinned and said, “Chocolate.”

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Okra, Sorghum, Yam

5 Jan 2010 00:00:01 EST

An exemplar for Short-short Sighted #18.

So the following summer when the second princess came to Old Kwaku’s hut, he said, “What do you want?”

“My father said that I must learn wisdom from you.”

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The Failure of Hope & Wandel

5 Jan 2010 00:00:01 EST

From Mr. Jabez Hope, in Chicago, to Mr. Pike Wandel, of New Orleans, December 2, 1877.

I will not bore you, my dear fellow, with a narrative of my journey from New Orleans to this polar region. It is cold in Chicago, believe me, and the Southron who comes here, as I did, without a relay of noses and ears will have reason to regret his mistaken economy in arranging his outfit.

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Please Go Vote!

5 Jan 2010 00:00:01 EST

The Preditors & Editors Poll runs through January 14. We’d love your vote in any category!

As for stories, there’s a little for everyone: fantasy, literary fiction, surrealism, a fairy tale, or a Bitter Bierce classic. If you’re a writer, read Bruce’s column on what to leave out.

Thanks to the staff for making it through another year, and to donors for their help in keeping the zine moving. Our next issue goes live on February 2. Meanwhile, please comment on stories, subscribe, and tip your favorite authors. Thanks!

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Ellipsis: What To Leave Out

5 Jan 2010 00:00:01 EST

The title says it all.

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Brass Canaries

1 Dec 2009 00:00:01 EST

We perch next to the glass, where window shoppers can press their flushed faces against the panes and ooh and aah at us. It is shopping season. We know because they cover their hands in cloth, and the sky falls white and fluffy around their feet.

They hurry by in twos and threes, carrying bags and boxes clutched close to their bodies....

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Note From The Future

1 Dec 2009 00:00:01 EST

I didn’t notice the note under my windshield until I’d already gotten into the car and put the key in the ignition. Immediately, a sequence of future events came into my mind. I would open the car door. I wouldn’t take the keys out of the ignition as I got out. I would automatically push the lock button down.

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Catalyst

1 Dec 2009 00:00:01 EST

“Sabotage?”

Chief Engineer Hoyle nodded. “I caught Officer Jarimath mucking about with the safety controls myself.”

The commander turned around to stare at the dim yellow star that controlled this solar system. “And there’s no way to vent the fuel?”

“The relief valve is frozen solid.”

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Don Ysidro

1 Dec 2009 00:00:01 EST

An exemplar for Short-short Sighted #17, below, and a World Fantasy award winner.

On that last morning, anyone who came to visit me could see that I was dying. I knew it myself. As if I had cotton in my ears, I heard the voice of don Leandro saying to my wife, “Doña Susana, I think it is time to fetch the priest,” and I thought, yes, it’s time.

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Christmas Presents, 1914.

1 Dec 2009 00:00:01 EST

“It’s perfectly simple,” said the Reverend Henry, adopting his lofty style. “We must cut the whole lot. There is no other course.”

“I don’t consider that your opinion is of any value whatever,” said Eileen. “In fact you ought not to be allowed to take part in this discussion. Every one knows that you have always tried to get out of Christmas presents...

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In This Issue

1 Dec 2009 00:00:01 EST

This is our second anniversary. There are presents involved, but mostly Christmas ones: clockpunk canaries, and some from 1914. But there’s also a taste of what might have been, sabotage as catalyst, and a reprint of the award-winning “Don Ysidro”. We hope you enjoy them. And if you’re a writer, don’t forget Bruce’s column, either.

Our next issue goes live on January 5. Meanwhile, please subscribe if you haven’t already, comment on stories, and tip your favorite authors. Thanks!

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Write Rites: The Ritual Story

1 Dec 2009 00:00:01 EST

On using ritual in stories.

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My Superpower

3 Nov 2009 00:00:01 EST

I can pretty much find anything. It’s my superpower. It was always below the surface, in the backwaters of my brain, just waiting. I’m dead certain it was my kids and husband that finally forced it into the open.

“Hon, have you seen my garpledeybip?” Like I knew what that was.

“How should I know? I don’t even know what color it is.”

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A Delivery of Cheesesteaks

3 Nov 2009 00:00:01 EST

His own saliva wakes him up.

The icy patch on his face tips him out of the warmth he mustered from the newspapers pitched against the restaurant grate in the alleyway. Gabe checks the clockstrip he filched from a street vendor. 1/10/2015... 7:22 a.m... 18 degrees F...

A shelter tonight. He hates being locked in, but it beats frostbite. More from the strip:

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Irma Splinkbottom’s Recipe For Cold Fusion

3 Nov 2009 00:00:01 EST

Irma Splinkbottom loosened the back string of her apron as she shuffled over to the sliding glass door in her kitchen. The temperature on the gauge outside made her hesitate. She knew Fall brought cooler temperatures to the small town of Sapulpa, Oklahoma, but 68 degrees at 2:13 PM....

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President of Baseball Operations

3 Nov 2009 00:00:01 EST

An exemplar for Short-short Sighted #16, listed below.

The secretary never had a chance to say, “Do you have an appointment?” Washington was already past her and opening the CEO’s door.

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Master Teng-t’u

3 Nov 2009 00:00:01 EST

One day when the chamberlain, Master Teng-t’u, was in attendance at the palace he warned the king against Sung Yü, saying: “Yü is a man of handsome features and calm bearing and his tongue is prompt with subtle sentences. Moreover, his character is licentious. I would submit that your Majesty is ill-advised in allowing him to follow you into the Queen’s apartments.”

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In This Issue

1 Nov 2009 00:00:01 EST

We had some fun this month, lightening the mood from our October issue. We hope you like our stories of a mom’s superpower, a homeless man’s bravery, and... well... cold fusion. Sort of.

Our Classic Flash is an ancient retort; laughter has always been the best defense.

Bruce Holland Rogers is back this issue, too, talking about writing with characters your audience already knows. His example story is about George and Baseball. But not that George.

Our next issue goes live on December 1. Meanwhile, please subscribe if you haven’t already, comment on stories, and tip your favorite authors. Thanks!

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George Washington’s Life in Baseball:Using Characters Your Reader Already Knows

3 Nov 2009 00:00:01 EST

Bruce Holland Rogers discusses the use of characters your audience already knows.

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Eating It Too

1 Oct 2009 00:00:01 EST

Her mother had taught her that each meal, each dish made with her own fingers was a gift. You should cook with your loved one in mind, Sophie, her mother used to say, and strive for the best.

So Sophie had. Each meal was a feast, a gift of love.

Harold ate each with gusto, complimenting her, and never missing a meal.

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Death Babies

1 Oct 2009 00:00:01 EST

Wheee. The death baby goes, wheee. It also gurgles something awful. We have a problem with them in the town, not the town proper but right outside. The death babies have gotten brave in recent years, crawling right up to the gardens and even to the homes.

Nobody knows where they come from, only that when one of us dies...

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The Door

1 Oct 2009 00:00:01 EST

The smell of wet ash slicked her throat. Jo felt the new skin stretching on her thighs and stomach as she stumbled past pools of plastic that might have been patio furniture. Blackened beams poked out of the rubble and the dead lawn crunched under her slippers. Nothing had survived that heat. Only Jo herself, strangely whole, scabbed and oozing under layers of bandages, still limped into the future.

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Nyarlathotep

1 Oct 2009 00:00:01 EST

Nyarlathotep... the crawling chaos... I am the last... I will tell the audient void....

I do not recall distinctly when it began, but it was months ago. The general tension was horrible. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing,...

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In This Issue

1 Oct 2009 00:00:01 EST

The approach of autumn brings pleasures that stem from the juxtaposition of opposites, such as smoke carried on a fresh breeze.

Us, too. We have some excellent awfulness for you this month: award-winning author Kristine Kathryn Rusch provides Eating It Too, S. Craig Renfroe, Jr. delivers Death Babies, and Damon Shaw shows us The Door. Plus a Classic Flash from H.P. Lovecraft and an essay on writing by Edgar Allan Poe.

Our next issue goes live on November 3. Meanwhile, please subscribe if you haven’t already, comment on stories, and tip your favorite authors. Thanks!

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The Philosophy of Composition

1 Oct 2009 00:00:01 EST

This essay details the writing of Edgar Allan Poe’s most famous poem, “The Raven”. Although flash fiction isn’t poetry, it strives for the same “unity of effect” that Poe tries to obtain in his work.

Some have said that this is satire, too precise and methodical to be serious; however, I think our own work might benefit from studying its themes.

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Suddenly Speaking

1 Sep 2009 00:00:01 EST

It suddenly hits me that I speak Japanese. I turn off the subtitles, and I do perfectly well without them.

Nonsense, my gangster friends tell me. No one can just suddenly be speaking Japanese. How are we supposed to believe you learned to speak Japanese? Watching cartoons? Ordering sushi? Reading novels on your cell phone? Ridiculous.

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Doofus

1 Sep 2009 00:00:01 EST

Billy didn’t want to be a Doofus. Maybe a scientist, or a zookeeper, or a musician. But definitely not a Doofus.

Unfortunately second grade was nearly over, and he had not found a white coat or a microscope, or a guitar, and he had missed the fieldtrip to the zoo.

And now this... a knot.

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How High The Moon

1 Sep 2009 00:00:01 EST

“You’re a robot, you know. I made you.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Nomie said. She put the tea tray down and settled into the lawn chair. “But I don’t think I’m a robot.”

“Programming,” Manny said, “I programmed you not to know.” He blew on his tea and sipped. Just the right amount of sugar and cinnamon.

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Discovery Draft

1 Sep 2009 00:00:01 EST

An exemplar for Short-short Sighted #15 on collaborating with MICE.

This afternoon, I’ve been digging a hole in the back yard for Miss Hought. That’s what she insists on being called, even though she’s a widow twice over.

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Miranda’s Will

1 Sep 2009 00:00:01 EST

I am not legal adviser to Miranda’s family; nevertheless she came to see me on business the other day. I saw at once by her serious air that it was something of first-rate importance.

“I want a will,” she said; “one of those things that people leave when they die.”

“Some people leave them and some don’t,” I said.

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In This Issue

1 Sep 2009 00:00:01 EST

Read about the stories and columns in our current issue here.

Our next issue goes live on October 1. Meanwhile, please subscribe if you haven’t already, and tip your favorite authors. Thanks!

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Review: The Field Guide to Writing Flash Fiction

1 Sep 2009 00:00:01 EST

Editor Jake Freivald reviews The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Writing Flash Fiction, a collection of 25 essays dedicated to... well, you know.

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Collaborating with MICE:Using Theory as a Creative Partner

1 Sep 2009 00:00:01 EST

Bruce Holland Rogers continues his series on writing the short-short story.

In the last four columns we have looked at Orson Scott Card’s MICE quotient and examined how it is possible to write flash fiction that depends on its success on Milieu, Idea, Character, or Event. As I wrote these columns, I was reminded of the nervous anxiety that I used to feel when I would read about theories and techniques of writing. On one hand, I would feel excited about the clarity that can arrive with a good theory: Aha! That’s why certain novels begin with the arrival of strangers and end when the strangers leave! They are novels of milieu!

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There Are No Great Truths Here

4 Aug 2009 00:00:01 EST

Just as the sign says, my friend. This booth is hardly grand, and the fair isn’t exactly surpassing its county roots, either, is it? Shouldn’t the truths match the environs? Anyway, if you truly wanted capital-T Truth, you would stop at nothing to seek it on your own. You wouldn’t find it as a passing fancy from a grifter on the midway.

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Purpose

4 Aug 2009 00:00:01 EST

I know I’m going to die soon. It’s my heart.

Sometimes it’s painful, sharp pains that drill right through me; sometimes it’s a pin-drop that echoes throughout my body like ripples in a puddle. For me, all time stops.

My fate is certain. There are few specialists left, and those that are have kept to the big cities, where there is electricity and big hospitals. My concern is for my son...

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A Taste For Life

4 Aug 2009 00:00:01 EST

“And how old were you when you died, Mister Beauchamp?” Joan Rothman asked, leaning back in her chair. The scientists watched her behind the one-way mirror, hands clasped behind their backs.

“Twenty-seven,” the corpse replied, more gurgle than speech, as it gazed idly around the interview room. Joan jotted down the response, then chewed pensively on the tip of her red pen.

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The Lobbyist’s Tale

4 Aug 2009 00:00:01 EST

An exemplar for Short-short Sighted #14 on Flash Fiction of Event.

After my favorite bill died in committee, I went to the conference room to view the body.

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Death and Odysseus

4 Aug 2009 00:00:01 EST

In the Olympian courts Love laughed at Death, because he was unsightly, and because She couldn’t help it, and because he never did anything worth doing, and because She would.

And Death hated being laughed at, and used to brood apart thinking only of his wrongs and of what he could do to end this intolerable treatment.

But one day Death appeared in the courts with an air and They all noticed it. “What are you up to now?” said Love.

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In This Issue

4 Aug 2009 00:00:01 EST

This is a good month, although strange in a few ways that I detail in the column. We have three new stories, a Classic Flash, and the wrap-up to Bruce’s study of the MICE quotient.

Our next issue goes live on September 1. Meanwhile, please subscribe if you haven’t already, and tip your favorite authors. Thanks!

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Flash Fiction of Event:Tackling a Problem

4 Aug 2009 00:00:01 EST

Bruce’s final column in the discussion of MICE (Milieu, Idea, Character, and Event) focuses on Event stories.

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Love Bound

2 Jul 2009 00:00:01 EST

Sujatmi left the jungle and approached the skeletal husk of the hotel. As her booted feet crossed the verdant edge of nature’s reclaiming, she heard the crunching of rubble and bone. The Pillow Boy appeared in the girders. “Mama’s gone,” it wailed. “She’s... just teeth now.” It piped and moaned as it clutched its filthy pillow to its chest...

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The Call

2 Jul 2009 00:00:01 EST

If Monica didn’t go to work, stayed home with Sam and let the care-giver have the day off, then the thing wouldn’t happen.

If she wasn’t there when the manager called her into her office, if she wasn’t there when they escorted her to her desk to watch her shovel her stuff into boxes, if she wasn’t there when they shrugged as she asked would they call her a taxi...

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Through The Window

2 Jul 2009 00:00:01 EST

“Men!” Saldana said, as though it needed no elaboration. Lise and Maggie nodded their agreement.

They sat around the Denny’s table on a lazy Saturday afternoon, finishing slices of pie. Saldana, three years removed from a five year marriage, had the most authority in these discussions. She understood this and kept the ball rolling.

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Jerry

2 Jul 2009 00:00:01 EST

An exemplar for Short-short Sighted #13 on Flash Fiction of Character.

For the first two years of grade school, Jerry’s mother dressed her like a boy and gave her a boy’s haircut.

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Beyond Pandora

2 Jul 2009 00:00:01 EST

The doctor’s pen paused over the chart on his desk, “This is your third set of teeth, I believe?”

His patient nodded, “That’s right, Doctor. But they were pretty slow coming in this time.”

The doctor looked up quizzically, “Is that the only reason you think you might need a booster shot?”

“Oh, no... of course not!” The man leaned forward and placed one hand, palm up, on the desk....

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In This Issue

2 Jul 2009 00:00:01 EST

Start reading! We have a ghost story, a sobering mainstream story (that seems especially relevant with all of the US healthcare discussions), an honest-to-goodness romance (!), and a science fiction Classic Flash.

Bruce Holland Rogers discusses character and gives us character story called “Jerry”.

Our next issue goes live on August 4. Meanwhile, please subscribe if you haven’t already, and tip your favorite authors. Thanks!

Read more. . .

Flash Fiction of Character

2 Jul 2009 00:00:01 EST

Bruce continues his discussion of the MICE quotient by talking about Flash Fiction of Character.

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Branwen’s Revenge

2 Jun 2009 00:00:01 EST

In the lee of the well, Branwen crouched. She pursed her lips and whistled at the mockingbird. It flicked its long tail up and down, hopped two steps toward her and one away, its head turned sideways. She whistled again. It hopped nearer to the crumbs she had laid for it.

“Alas for Branwen the White, who suffers every day,” she sang to the mockingbird....

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Atypical Research

2 Jun 2009 00:00:01 EST

My predisposition for science began as a boy; then, grasshoppers were my fascination. I caught them by dozens, built wire mesh homes, and gathered a variety of vegetation, crabgrass, clover, dandelion weeds—so they’d stay happy and entertain me. Occasionally one perched on a twig and peered out, as though knowing the cage wasn’t its indigenous habitat, cautionary, waiting for predators....

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At Both Ends

2 Jun 2009 00:00:01 EST

“Mind if I ask you something?”

It took me by surprise. I hadn’t noticed the guy standing next to me, there in the multiplex lobby. Minutes before, Lucille and I had been strolling toward the doors after seeing the new Spiderman movie; then she let go of my hand and made her way toward the ladies’ room....

“You mind if I ask some questions while we wait?”

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Visions of Gingerbread

2 Jun 2009 00:00:01 EST

This story exemplifies Bruce’s column about Idea in the MICE quotient.

I have never fired anyone on the night of the Christmas party. Not quite. But my employees always give me a wide berth at the annual event. It reminds me of my failure to escape the family spice business.

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The Kiss

2 Jun 2009 00:00:01 EST

It was still quite light out of doors, but inside with the curtains drawn and the smouldering fire sending out a dim, uncertain glow, the room was full of deep shadows.

Brantain sat in one of these shadows; it had overtaken him and he did not mind. The obscurity lent him courage to keep his eyes fastened as ardently as he liked upon the girl who sat in the firelight.

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In This Issue

2 Jun 2009 00:00:01 EST

Subscribe, leave a tip, or read about this month’s stories. Our next issue goes live on July 2. See you then!

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Flash Fiction of Idea

2 Jun 2009 00:00:01 EST

Bruce’s column continues his discussion of the MICE (Milieu, Idea, Character, Event) quotient with a discussion about Flash Fiction of Idea.

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Descent

5 May 2009 00:00:01 EST

Vinnie instructed us to undress. “The little wimps are going for a swim!” he shouted. His gang was gathered down along the bank at the base of the waterfall. One of the bigger boys let out a whoop and yelled back up, Throw the losers over!

From the outcrop on which we stood, it was nearly a thirty-foot drop to the water....

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Jack Rabbit

5 May 2009 00:00:01 EST

Disconnected. The desire for immediate reconnection was so strong it hurt. Carefully removing the nutrient and waste tubes from my body, I stepped away from the jack, legs barely able to take my weight....

I’d pushed the limit this time around. Twelve days. Two hundred and ninety-two hours, to be exact.

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Billions of Stars

5 May 2009 00:00:01 EST

Dom pried the thing out of the hard ground, then held it up to inspect it. It appeared to be a planet: its icy poles chilled his hands, and its dirty continents smudged his fingers as he turned it about in his palms.

Dom looked around himself from where he squatted. The empty prairie stretched for miles, and the grass nearby was free of any footprints.

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To The Death!

5 May 2009 00:00:01 EST

“Cauliflower!” shrieked Gaspard Volauvent across the little table in the estaminet. His face bristled with rage.

“Serpent!” replied Jacques Rissolo, bristling with equal dexterity.

The two stout little men glared ferociously at each other. Then Jacques picked up his glass and poured the wine of the country over his friend’s head.

Read more. . .

In This Issue

5 May 2009 00:00:01 EST

Welcome ComputerWorld readers! Don’t forget to subscribe...

We have three great new stories and a Classic Flash this month, from new and experienced authors. Bruce Holland Rogers is on hiatus, but we’ve published an index of his columns so far. For more information, follow the Read More link.

Please comment, subscribe, and (if you’re so inclined) leave a tip. Our next issue goes live on June 2. See you then!

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Short-Short-Sighted Index

5 May 2009 00:00:01 EST

With Bruce on hiatus this month, we thought it would be a good idea to create a list of all eleven of his columns so far. He’s already covered a lot of turf: from fixed forms, traditional tales, and word-count restrictions to the deliberate shattering of form and evasion of tradition. Each has at least one story to illustrate his point, too—all of which are well worth reading.

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I Foretold You So

2 Apr 2009 00:00:01 EST

When Straven, Prophet of Peekh, chanced upon Asha, Oracle of the Hyperopic Temple, even the gods raised their eyebrows at the romance that followed. Now one might think the two greatest seers of the realm could have predicted their own heartbreaks, but their potent foresight proved useless against a time-tested truth.

Love is blind.

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Discerning Women

2 Apr 2009 00:00:01 EST

Alexa Cambridge reported to the Human Registration Center as instructed by the Braxian governor. The room looked like a polling place on election day, frantic with women at two dozen stations. Alexa read her kiosk’s instructions, with its famously fractured English, and began.

> Test Set 1:
> You knowing you subject of Brax Empire?

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The Mummy’s Curse

2 Apr 2009 00:00:01 EST

Last year, we published a feghoot on April Fool’s day. We’re doing it again this year, I’m sorry to say. What’s a feghoot, you ask? I’m so glad you did...

“Don’t go in there!”

“What?” Mirza Khan turned to look back at Adelaide, tripped over the shin-high railings and fell over. “Ow!” He rubbed his bruised elbow and glared at Adelaide.

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Unpleasant Features of Our New Address

2 Apr 2009 00:00:01 EST

One, the overgrown tangle of weeds that is the back garden. None of us owns the land. Not us, not Andy and Tomi in the flat above ours, not Enrico in the flat below. Enrico says “They should send a gardener round,” and we agree that yes, they should. Whoever they are.

Two, the black-and-white cat begging at the front door....

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Novel, But Not New

2 Apr 2009 00:00:01 EST

I thought this Classic Flash was funny because its title seems so terribly appropriate: it’s an 1893 story that seems quite topical in this day of print-on-demand services. Enjoy! —Ed.

I.—Publisher’s Sanctum. Amateur Author discovered in consultation with Enterprising Publisher.

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More Fun Flash to Come

1 Apr 2009 00:00:01 EST

There’ll be more flash when our full issue goes live tomorrow. (We publish on the first Tuesday or Thursday of the month.) In the meantime, you can still read our stories from the March issue, below, or check out our archives.

Read more. . .

Flash Fiction of Milieu: What It’s Like Here

2 Apr 2009 00:00:01 EST

This is the first of four articles covering the MICE Quotient: Milieu, Idea, Character, and Event. Bruce discusses these elements (with a tip of the hat to Orson Scott Card) and goes into greater depth on milieu. His exemplar for the month is called, “Unpleasant Features of Our New Address.”

Read more. . .

The Music Issue

1 Mar 2009 00:00:01 EST

March in, sit down, and enjoy a few good stories. Everything we offer involves music in some way: “Addiction” is about the music of the sidhe, “Gustav’s Mars” is about Holst’s famous composition (sort of), and “Trumpet Volunteer” is about divine music. Even Bruce Holland Rogers delivers a music-related story to exemplify his column about breaking the rules in short-short fiction. Finally, we have a Classic Flash from Lord Dunsany about the Blackbird’s song. Join us!

Read more. . .

Addiction

1 Mar 2009 00:00:01 EST

I reached into my jacket pocket, cursing under my breath, and ordered another cup of coffee. We weren’t supposed to smoke in Café Blue Moon and I wasn’t going to risk being asked to leave. My interest in the sidhe took priority over comfort. My impatience was an obstacle that I would stalwartly ignore. Annoyed, I tore up a paper napkin, meticulously ripping it into confetti-like shreds....

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Gustav’s Mars

1 Mar 2009 00:00:01 EST

I’ve never heard the end of Gustav Holst’s Mars. I came close, once, but then the world ended with the Martian invasion.

Did you know that 70 years before they attacked—to the day—Orson Welles broadcasted War of the Worlds?...

The night the real invasion came, I went to a Halloween concert...

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Trumpet Volunteer

1 Mar 2009 00:00:01 EST

In a dark universe strewn with worlds, in a dark world sprinkled with lands, in a land peppered with bright cities, in a shabby street, in one small room in a concrete tower layered with rooms, a stub of candle flickers and goes out.

Beyond the dark universe, watchers respond.

“Who reported this one?”

“The father.”

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Less Than The Rules Demand: Getting By On Attitude

1 Mar 2009 00:00:01 EST

In this issue, Bruce Holland Rogers breaks all the rules—and shows how you can, too. His intriguing story “Baby, It Didn’t Have to Happen That Way”, illustrates his point.

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Baby, It Didn’t Have to Happen This Way

1 Mar 2009 00:00:01 EST

Money. That’s the thing Paola’s lover, Evan, is afraid of. He is always worried—it makes him physically ill—that there will be too much money. Her anxiety, on the other hand, is that in another year people will still fail to recognize her on the street, that she will still have to produce an ID to cash her checks. This is a very real possibility.

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The Song of the Blackbird

1 Mar 2009 00:00:01 EST

As the poet passed the thorn-tree the blackbird sang.

“How ever do you do it?” the poet said, for he knew bird language.

“It was like this,” said the blackbird. “It really was the most extraordinary thing. I made that song last Spring, it came to me all of a sudden. There was the most beautiful she-blackbird that the world has ever seen....”

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My Not-So-Funny Valentine

1 Feb 2009 00:00:01 EST

Stories of love dominate the month, including the Classic Flash, but there’s nothing Harlequinesque about them. Bruce has a new column, too, and a poignant story to exemplify his point. Also a note on Bill Highsmith’s outstanding contribution to our blog, some thank-you’s to those who help keep us running, and a wrap-up of the Preditors & Editors poll.

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Golden Pepper

1 Feb 2009 00:00:01 EST

Death came on black-feathered wings for a woman in Port Ruin. She was the wife of a simple man, no great magos, or strategos of the armies, but rather a reseller of spices traded from the sun-drenched south. Yet when Death arrived in the last minute of her life, he found the man standing before her bed, waiting for him.

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The Scarecrow’s Inamorata

1 Feb 2009 00:00:01 EST

Yes, it’s true what the crows say. My heart is filled with straw, my brain is imminently combustible, and I hang from a gibbet in a field of green, like a criminal, legs broken and dangled beneath me. It is also not blood that animates me, but the wind, such brief motion being just enough to scare away all but the more brazen of birds....

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The Universe Has It In For Harry

1 Feb 2009 00:00:01 EST

Harry and Sheryl passed each other on the stairs in the bed and breakfast. “I felt like I had known you all my life,” she told him later.

“Like we had grown up together in a small town. What are the odds?”

“It happens to me all the time.”

“Falling in love in a bed and breakfast?”

“Letting good things happen...”

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Zoom! Writing A Lifetime In A Page Or Two

1 Feb 2009 00:00:01 EST

In this issue, Bruce Holland Rogers makes time fly by focusing on a lot of time in a small space. He uses a poignant 300-word story, “Dinosaur”, as an illustration.

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Dinosaur

1 Feb 2009 00:00:01 EST

When he was very young, he waved his arms, gnashed the teeth of his massive jaws, and tromped around the house so that the dishes trembled in the china cabinet. “Oh, for goodness sake,” his mother said. “You are not a dinosaur! You are a human being!” Since he was not a dinosaur, he thought for a time that he might be a pirate....

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A Spring Idyll

1 Feb 2009 00:00:01 EST

If wound stripes were given to soldiers on becoming casualties to Cupid’s archery barrage, Ronnie Morgan’s sleeve would be stiff with gilt embroidery. The spring offensive claimed him as an early victim. When he became an extensive purchaser of drab segments of fossilized soap, bottles of sticky brilliantine with a chemical odour, and postcards worked with polychromatic silk, the billet began to make inquiries.

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The Fallen Angel

1 Jan 2009 00:00:01 EST

At 8:32 PM on June 16, 2024, Gerhardt Skarda conjured up Lucifuge Rofocale, one of the major demons of the Infernal Realm, and offered his soul in exchange for three wishes. He was granted, and received within 48 hours, irresistibility to beautiful women, the Chancellorship of Germany, and life everlasting.

At 11:54 PM on June 16, 2024...

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The Flood of ’09

1 Jan 2009 00:00:01 EST

A few, the type who own rubber boots and full-body raingear, like Lawrence and John, stay. Hell, it’s the ten-year flood zone. They knew the bursting river would raise unlocked garage doors and set floatables free. Refrigerators tip, careen, and dump possessions. Anything wood floats.

Gary is dead in the hearse across the street...

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As Their Eyes Touched God

1 Jan 2009 00:00:01 EST

I heard Susan’s small sigh before she sat beside me, so I made room for her on the roof. A man behind us wept softly; she turned, giving him a small, encouraging smile.

“Mister Valeda,” she muttered, when I didn’t check to see.

“506?”

She nodded. “His wife shot herself this afternoon.”

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Estranged

1 Jan 2009 00:00:01 EST

After the divorce, my wife said she didn’t know who or what she wanted to be. When I heard that she had become a toaster, I felt vindicated. A toaster! Was that all she could be without me? And she wasn’t even good at it. She could only do two slices at a time, and they came out charred on one side and white on the other. Obviously, she was the one with inadequacies.

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An Enigmatic Nature

1 Jan 2009 00:00:01 EST

On the red velvet seat of a first-class railway carriage a pretty lady sits half reclining. An expensive fluffy fan trembles in her tightly closed fingers, a pince-nez keeps dropping off her pretty little nose, the brooch heaves and falls on her bosom, like a boat on the ocean. She is greatly agitated.

On the seat opposite sits the Provincial Secretary of Special Commissions, a budding young author...

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Vote in the Preditors & Editors Poll!

1 Jan 2009 00:00:01 EST

There’s a lot to say about this issue, but first: The Preditors & Editors Poll is up, and polling only runs for about two weeks, so please go vote! I’d be honored by Flash Fiction Online nominations in any of the appropriate categories: Fiction e-zine, Artist (for R.W. Ware, our artist-in-residence), Science Fiction & Fantasy Short Story, Non-SF&F Story, Non-fiction Article (for Bruce Holland Rogers’s “Short-short Sighted” column), Author, and, if I may not seem too immodest, Magazine / e-zine editor.

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Get Unreal

1 Jan 2009 00:00:01 EST

They say that truth is stranger than fiction, but they’re not talking about this sort of fiction. Bruce Holland Rogers covers some of the stranger styles of fiction—expressionism, surrealism, magical realism and fantasy—and shows how they can be useful in short-short stories. He offers his story “Estranged” as an example of expressionism.

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Is “Paper Anniversary” Too Ironic For A Web Site?

1 Nov 2008 00:00:01 EST

This is our first anniversary issue—lucky thirteen—and I’m happy to report a lot of great things going on here at Flash Fiction Online. Our very first story just won an award, we’ve started podcasting, we’ve nominated stories for the Pushcart Prize, and, of course, we have great new stories for the month.

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Counting and Multiplying: The Birth and Evolution of the Three-Six-Nine

1 Dec 2008 00:00:01 EST

The latest installment of Bruce Holland Rogers’s “Short-Short Sighted” column discusses the “369”—a form so rigid that one might wonder whether it can be effective. After reading this column, you’ll stop wondering.

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Shelter

2 Dec 2008 00:00:01 EST

My hands ache, ache, and when I look at them, I don’t remember them looking like this. Maybe it’s the skin, paper-dry and thin, like an old person’s. Do my hands look like this? I puddle cream in my palm and work it in, wringing my hands. Polishing them.

Scales. I should be doing scales, I think, and go for a cup of tea. The problem is, I don’t play the piano. And I don’t drink tea.

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Normalized Death

2 Dec 2008 00:00:01 EST

There’s a sink and drinking glasses in Mom’s room. I know I should take the pills right away before she wakes up. Instead I stand in the doorway and stare.

Mom looks bad. An oxygen tube loops under her nose, and her skin is puffed and grayish-yellow. An adhesive medical patch sends painkillers into her neck. Below the blanket, printed with a nice homey flower pattern, she wears adult diapers. Her body can no longer sustain itself. Time to go....

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Pocket Change

2 Dec 2008 00:00:01 EST

Joe Bastogne willed his leg not to bounce, as he watched his potential employer read his application. He knew the marks against him, but he said a silent prayer those faults would be overlooked. It was Christmas, after all.

“Mr. Bastogne,” Mr. Westcott said, “it says here you were convicted of theft. That right?”

Joe’s throat constricted and his stomach roiled.

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Earthmen Bearing Gifts

2 Dec 2008 00:00:01 EST

Dhar Ry sat alone in his room, meditating. From outside the door he caught a thought wave equivalent to a knock, and, glancing at the door, he willed it to slide open.

It opened. “Enter, my friend,” he said. He could have projected the idea telepathically; but with only two persons present, speech was more polite.

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An October Surprise

1 Nov 2008 00:00:01 EST

Yes, I know we already published a Halloween story—“A Haunted House” by Virginia Woolf—but Mercedes M. Yardley’s “Ray the Vampire” seemed so perfect that we had to do another one. It’s a fun story and, of course, a quick read.

Normally we publish on the first Tuesday or Thursday of the month, so the rest of our November issue will go live on the 4th—Election Day! Print out the stories to read while you’re waiting in line.

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The End of the Year

1 Nov 2008 00:00:01 EST

This issue marks the end of our first full year of publishing, and I give a few statistics in this article. I’m really proud of what we’ve accomplished. In addition, we have some great stories—haunting and compelling—and a new column by Bruce Holland Rogers.

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Ray the Vampire

31 Oct 2008 00:00:01 EST

The thing about Ray was his insatiable thirst for blood. He has read every self-help book out there, including the Bible (“It doesn’t burn like I thought it would”), and even got hypnotized—though he tried to bite the hypnotist. But his obsession got annoying. “You know what this popcorn needs? Blood.” “Let’s go get a soda and a little blood.” “Blood blood blood blood blood.” We all kept our pets away from Ray.

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The Scientific Method

1 Nov 2008 00:00:01 EST

The Colegio de Caribe was established for the foreign executives of Dole banana in Costa Rica to have a school for their kids, insulated from the locals. By the time my sister, Lisë, and I joined the staff, it served the spoiled scions of the town’s doctors, lawyers, and business class.... What I saw repulsed me beyond anything I’d seen that whole year.

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The Cleansing

1 Nov 2008 00:00:01 EST

Tom heaved Harold Tueller’s body overboard and gave it to the sea.

He listened as Harold thudded against Nautica’s side then splashed into the waves below. Nautica creaked and groaned a eulogy. Tom bowed his head and let her speak, then said his Amens.

The first of the crew had died not two days out of Havana. A horrible death....

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The Dead Boy At Your Window

1 Nov 2008 00:00:01 EST

This story exemplifies Bruce Holland Rogers’s latest column on writing the short-short form, in which he discusses fairy tales.

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Once Upon A Time: Fairy Tales

1 Nov 2008 00:00:01 EST

The latest installment of Bruce Holland Rogers’s “Short-Short Sighted” column discusses fairy tales. His short-short story example, “The Dead Boy At Your Window,” is a haunting example—and winner of the Bram Stoker and the Pushcart Prize. Don’t miss it.

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A Little Fable

1 Nov 2008 00:00:01 EST

With election day approaching, I thought of “change,” which led to “Metamorphosis,” which led to Kafka. I offer this tiny classic—just 87 words in translation—in honor of election day. Interpret it as you will.

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Spinnerbait

1 Oct 2008 00:00:01 EST

Chance Johnson peered between the bushes at the hand-flapping mob of snot-green extraterrestrials pillaging his tackle box. While he’d gone to relieve his bladder on his favorite sumac, the little suckers from who-knows-where had claimed his stuff. They held up his jigs and lures like outsized earrings. One of them dropped his bobber on the ground and poked it with a stick. Two others had stink bait smeared on like war paint.

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Dani-Girl’s Guide to Getting Everything Right

1 Oct 2008 00:00:01 EST

The minute the nose of my Honda Civic points north on the 5, my hands begin to sweat, my breath goes shallow, and somewhere down in my lower intestinal tract I feel a rumbling similar to distant thunder, just not as pleasant. Don’t Go Home is the first cardinal rule in Dani-Girl’s Guide to Getting Everything Right, and after a lifetime in Lomita with my German-Irish father, Rule 1 is easy to follow.

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Traveling by Petroglyph

1 Oct 2008 00:00:01 EST

My beach is quiet. It is just me and the eagle’s screech, the limpet’s sip, the suck of the ocean upon the rocks. Behind me sits a fisherman’s boat on its side. There’s a gash in the hull that curves up, like a smile. I am utterly alone. It is Friday afternoon and the locals are either preparing their restaurants, shops, and art galleries for the onslaught, or they are hiding.

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What to Expect

1 Oct 2008 00:00:01 EST

This story exemplifies Bruce Holland Rogers’s latest column on writing the short-short form, in which he discusses using forms found “in the wild” as inspiration for stories.

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A Haunted House

1 Oct 2008 00:00:01 EST

Whatever hour you woke there was a door shunting. From room to room they went, hand in hand, lifting here, opening there, making sure—a ghostly couple.

“Here we left it,” she said. And he added, “Oh, but here too!” “It’s upstairs,” she murmured. “And in the garden,” he whispered. “Quietly,” they said, “or we shall wake them.”

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The Ladies of October

1 Oct 2008 00:00:01 EST

This is our first all-woman issue, even including (sort of) Bruce Holland Rogers’s writing column. In includes two very different speculative fiction stories, one mainstream story, and one Halloween-themed Classic Flash. Join us in the Flash Forum or click the link to...

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Take a Letter...or a Fire Extinguisher

1 Oct 2008 00:00:01 EST

The latest installment of Bruce Holland Rogers’s “Short-Short Sighted” column discusses fixed forms found “in the wild,” in letters and travel guides and even fire extinguishers. His short-short story What to Expect is about pregnancy—and a little bit more.

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In This Issue

1 Sep 2008 00:00:01 EST

More great stories for you, whether you’re a grown man who’s been shaken up, a child dealing with her father, or a boy going a little bonkers. Or maybe you’re an ancient Greek being channeled by Edgar Allan Poe. And if you’re a writer, you can see how Bruce Holland Rogers uses rigidity to get creative.

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Beyond The Pale

1 Sep 2008 00:00:01 EST

I’ve seen a lot of dives in my line of work. Tonight’s bar was no different. The sign over the door identified the place as Beyond The Pale, and from the condition of the lounge it was clear this one lived up to its name. A dingy film covered the linoleum floor, giving it the color of bile.... But the décor, or lack thereof, was of little concern. I needed a drink, and I needed it fast.

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Just One Thing

1 Sep 2008 00:00:01 EST

“You have to be the best in the world at something.”

My father couldn’t have made his point any clearer if he’d spoken in all caps. Maybe he had.

I must have been about eleven, which would shuffle my brothers’ and sisters’ ages from thirteen for Maria, twelve for Joaquin, then myself—the bridge between older and younger—and so on to Bell, little Boo, and Miguelito, who was only ten months old....

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The Trick

1 Sep 2008 00:00:01 EST

He just wants to go home. He just wants to go home. He just wants to go home, but he can’t go home so he bounces. Boing. Bounces to pass the time. If only he were a year older he could go to school and he wouldn’t need to be dropped off here. He wishes that were the case. Because Roger doesn’t yet know that schools can be much worse places.

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Shadow — A Parable

1 Sep 2008 00:00:01 EST

Ye who read are still among the living; but I who write shall have long since gone my way into the region of shadows. For indeed strange things shall happen, and secret things be known, and many centuries shall pass away, ere these memorials be seen of men. And, when seen, there will be some to disbelieve, and some to doubt, and yet a few who will find much to ponder upon in the characters here graven with a stylus of iron.

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One Loopy Sentence At A Time

1 Sep 2008 00:00:01 EST

The latest installment of Bruce Holland Rogers’s “Short-Short Sighted” column discusses fixed forms—using rigidity to inspire creativity. His 400-word story The House of Women serves as an example.

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The House of Women

1 Sep 2008 00:00:01 EST

This story is an illustration of principles that the author, Bruce Holland Rogers, expounds upon in his column “One Loopy Sentence at a Time.”

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In This Issue

1 Aug 2008 00:00:01 EST

Serious stories? Silly? Both? Yes—even out of this world. Plus flash writing tips. Plus Bruce writes by counting to three!

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Momentum, Disruption, and Proof of Deflection

1 Aug 2008 00:00:01 EST

In the latest installment of his “Short-Short Sighted” column, Bruce Holland Rogers discusses a three-point structure for creating short-short stories: Momentum, Disruption, and Proof of Deflection. And he provides an extremely short story (238 words) called “Daddy” to show you how a master does it.

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Writing Speculative Fiction for the Flash Fiction Market

1 Aug 2008 00:00:01 EST

Suzanne Vincent gets practical on writing extremely short speculative fiction.

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Stone The Crows

1 Aug 2008 00:00:01 EST

I’d just turned the key in the ignition when I saw the birds.

They’d swooped past my car into the alley in front of the bank parking lot. When I looked up, I could see the pigeon on the ground, at the base of a brick building. It was in trouble, trying to get up onto a windowsill; flap as it would, it couldn’t get enough lift. One wing was hardly moving.

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Reverse Engineering

1 Aug 2008 00:00:01 EST

Green metal beetles filled the sky. Electric death crackled off their deadly antennae and fell on the city below. It played up and down the crowded streets, shattering buildings, boiling asphalt, vaporizing cars.

Dull olive-drab shapes huddled against the crumbling remnants of a wall. One of the men cursed under his breath.

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On The Road With Rutger

1 Aug 2008 00:00:01 EST

I’m spending my week off fighting traffic jams, three tightly compacted lanes each morning. I bought the convertible special for this week—traded in the Taurus for a shiny Mustang—and I’ve got the top down. A sparkly red car. The kind of car Rutger will notice.

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The True History of the Hare and the Tortoise

1 Aug 2008 00:00:01 EST

This Classic Flash from 1915 is, yes, the old tale, but retold with a political flair and a funny and cynical twist at the end—as good as any modern commentary might be.

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Daddy

1 Aug 2008 00:00:01 EST

This story is an illustration of principles that the author, Bruce Holland Rogers, expounds upon in his column “Momentum, Disruption, and Proof of Deflection: A Story in Three Steps.”

Peg said to me, “You’re sure you want to come? They don’t always know until the blood tests come back.” But I wanted to take the day off. This was an occasion. Besides, it was a beautiful day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. We took a streetcar, then walked two blocks....

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Gone

1 Jul 2008 00:00:01 EST

Things started disappearing on a Thursday. At first, it was only food. Angela left three cookies on a plate in the kitchen, but when she turned around, there were only two. She set a glass of soda on the coffee table, but when she left the room and came back, it was gone. She had no roommates, no friends to speak of, no pets—there was no one to blame...

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Strive to be Happy

1 Jul 2008 00:00:01 EST

“Stupid.” He took a moment to savor the word. “God, but you’re stupid.”

She stared back mutely. That, at least, he didn’t blame her for: what could she say, after all? Any intrusion would only make things worse. He’d established the rules for this long ago, and she hadn’t fought back, which he considered as good as consenting.

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The Longer View

1 Jul 2008 00:00:01 EST

The Chief Surgeon sat in a padded leather chair, and I sat in a hard plastic one. The wall vents behind him blew fresh, filtered air, which dissipated into wisps before it got to me. Even on the top floor of Darber Institute, stale air smelled of ammonia. I coughed. He didn’t.

At last he said, “Mr. Jones, dozens of faster-than-light candidates arrive at the Institute every year. . . .”

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The Fabulist’s Tale

1 Jul 2008 00:00:01 EST

Bruce Holland Rogers’s “Short-Short Sighted” column this month is called The Fabulist’s Tale. In it, he discusses fables and gives us a story of his own as an example.

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The Bullfrog and His Shadows

1 2008 00:00:01 EST

This story is used by Bruce as an example of a fable in his column about fables as short-short stories.

In the middle of the day, the frogs held a council. “It’s unbearable,” said one. “The herons hunt us by day, and the raccoons prey on us at night.”

“Yes,” said another. “Either one is bad enough, but both herons and raccoons together mean that we never have a moment’s peace.”

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John Mortonson’s Funeral

1 Jul 2008 00:00:01 EST

John Mortonson was dead: his lines in “the tragedy ‘Man’” had all been spoken and he had left the stage.

The body rested in a fine mahogany coffin fitted with a plate of glass.... At two o’clock of the afternoon the friends were to assemble to pay their last tribute of respect to one who had no further need of friends and respect....

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In This Issue

1 Jul 2008 00:00:01 EST

It’s a super issue: Read one of our great stories, or learn how to write your own.

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In This Issue

1 Jun 2008 00:00:01 EST

There’s something for everyone in this issue: boys at an abandoned mill, high-functioning robots, a little speculative non-fiction, and a classic. And if you’re a writer, you can see the first column in Bruce Holland Rogers’s new series about writing the short-short form. Read more!

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The Sad Girl

1 Jun 2008 00:00:01 EST

Donny Ray and Jim-Jim straddled their bikes on the bank of the stream and stared at the old Patterson Mill. Mr. Kent, the school janitor, had told them it had been haunted by a little girl named Sarah Tibbett since long about the 1920s. . . . Standing in the old mill’s shadows, Donny Ray could believe this was a place spirits dwelled.

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Copper Boss

1 Jun 2008 00:00:01 EST

“Broken robutt,” Kent said. He picked through a bin of replacement body parts, but couldn’t find an exact fit. “Crap. I’ll get my butt kicked off, too, if this assembler’s not back on the line within the hour.”

Sarah rummaged through the manufacturing stock and found a curved copper part with about the same dimensions as the flat plate that Kent needed. “Can you make this work?”

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The Hand of the Dead

1 Jun 2008 00:00:01 EST

Dave Hoing, author of “Souls of the Harvest” from our February issue, sent me The Hand of the Dead with an odd explanation: “Although it’s short enough to qualify as flash, I’m not sure if it’s fictional enough to qualify as fiction.” Call it a speculative essay, if you like—it stems from his love of old books, and the legacy captured in the handwriting inside a 1792 bible. —Ed.

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One Of These Days

1 Jun 2008 00:00:01 EST

“Tell him I’m not here.”

He was polishing a gold tooth. He held it at arm’s length, and examined it with his eyes half closed. His son shouted again from the little waiting room.

“He says you are, too, because he can hear you.”

The dentist kept examining the tooth. Only when he had put it on the table with the finished work did he say: “So much the better.”

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You’ll Know It When You See It

1 Jun 2008 00:00:01 EST

Flash Fiction Online is extremely proud to welcome Bruce Holland Rogers, award-winning author and educator, as he begins his new column, entitled “Short-Short Sighted: Writing the Short-Short Story.” His first column frames the question that will lead us through the rest of his columns: What exactly is this short-short story thing that we keep talking about?

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May Flash May Entertain You

1 May 2008 00:00:01 EST

Great stuff this month. Two-time Hugo nominee Bruce McAllister’s “Game”. New writer John Moran’s “Select Your Champions”. A bit of microfiction from Ron Richardson called “Bus Ride”. And a classic from H.P. Lovecraft called “Ex Oblivione”. Dive in!

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Game

1 May 2008 00:00:01 EST

This game is called Is Love Possible? It’s a virtual game—real cutting-edge interface software—that (1) draws on your life, hopes, and fears; (2) may or may not, my therapist says, have any therapeutic benefits; and (3) costs over two grand with my therapist’s discount, and needs three more in hardware from Circuit City, Best Buy, wherever.

“Okay,” I say, to make him happy.

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Bus Ride

1 May 2008 00:00:01 EST

I usually let the first part of a story draw in readers on their own. If I did that with Ron Richardson’s “Bus Ride”, it would probably use up half the word count—at 175 words, this is most likely the shortest story that Flash Fiction Online will ever publish. It rings true to me, too, having once served in the U.S. Marine Corps. So kick back and give it a read. I promise it won’t take very long. —Ed.

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Select Your Champions

1 May 2008 00:00:01 EST

So there we were: myself and Hannibal and Genghis Khan. Hannibal had the hill, while Genghis was sneaking round the rear.

Only for the lizard to call for another halt.

“What is it now?” I shouted.

The avatar appeared, all Greek robes and long flowing hair. He stood between me and the alien lizard and translated.

“He thinks you should choose only from the last three hundred years.”

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Ex Oblivione

1 May 2008 00:00:01 EST

When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water that torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victims body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep. In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods....

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We’re Fools For April

1 Apr 2008 00:00:01 EST

Welcome! Our April Fools issue gives you some of the crazy stories we get that are good, but a little more zany than we’d normally publish. Carl Frederick’s here—you may have read his stories in Analog—as is Kurt Bachard, and newcomer Dalton Keane. And if you haven’t groaned by the time you’re done with those, be sure to check out “Fast Living” by Hank Quense. (It’s a Feghoot, people. It’s supposed to be that way.)

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The Dyslexicon

1 Apr 2008 00:00:01 EST

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.

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Call of the Wild, Line Three

1 Apr 2008 00:00:01 EST

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.

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Fast Living

1 Apr 2008 00:00:01 EST

“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.

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How Not to Stage a Play...

1 Apr 2008 00:00:01 EST

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.

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Quiet, Please!

1 Apr 2008 00:00:01 EST

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.

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Lucky Clover

15 Mar 2008 00:00:01 EST

“Oh, for the love of...” Seamus shifted from foot to foot, one pudgy hand fingering the clover in his shirt pocket. The thought of using it sent his heart fluttering, but his fellow leprechauns were dying all around him, cut down by a swarm of chittering fairies.

“Aieeeee!” the winged pests cried as they flitted through the air, slashing with their sword-like wands.

“You’re going to have to use it,” Seamus muttered to himself....

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Small Suns and Cold Deserts

1 Mar 2008 00:00:01 EST

We have an intriguing set of flashes this month. Miracles are mundane, truth is strange, and hard topics are great reads. I discuss more in the full article. We also have our St. Patrick’s Day special, “Lucky Clover”. And don’t miss the interview with Eric Garcia, and the Classic Flash from Mark Twain.

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Interview with Eric

1 Mar 2008 00:00:01 EST

Eric Garcia is a novelist and screenwriter who writes insane things. Interestingly, he seems to be able to make a living selling them. Nobody’s quite sure how this works.

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Just Before Recess

1 Mar 2008 00:00:01 EST

Parker kept a sun in his desk. He fed it gravel and twigs, and once his gum when it lost its flavor. The warm varnished desktop felt good against his forearms, and the desk’s toasty metal bottom kept the chill off his legs.

Today Mr. Earl was grading papers at the front of the class, every once in a while glancing up at the 3rd graders to make sure none of them were talking or passing notes or looking out the window.

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Downstream From Divorce

1 Mar 2008 00:00:01 EST

Act II: A single eye stared back at me, its somberness swept by a long-lashed blink. On the top bunk, my step-son lay on his side, head sunk to his nose in a pillow, and watched me get ready to state my position. A comforter snugged up to his smooth jawline and humped over his slender shoulder as it spread over the bed and smoothed away the rest of his body.

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The Desert Cold

1 Mar 2008 00:00:01 EST

Everyone knows the great desert is hot by day and cold by night. But that heat and cold is something you must know to understand. The midday sun seems to burn through your eyelids, so that outside the shade you cannot escape it; it pricks at your skin like a thousand needles, and sweat offers no relief because you could never sweat enough. It is harsh and cruel, and without water and a good guide you will not live long.

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A Telephonic Conversation

1 Mar 2008 00:00:01 EST

Consider that a conversation by telephone—when you are simply sitting by and not taking any part in that conversation—is one of the solemnest curiosities of modern life. Yesterday I was writing a deep article on a sublime philosophical subject while such a conversation was going on in the room. I notice that one can always write best when somebody is talking through a telephone close by. Well, the thing began in this way...

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Pro Prose and New Names

1 Feb 2008 00:00:01 EST

This is a great month. Just go read new stories.

Veteran Dave Hoing lets us see the “Souls of the Harvest.” We have two first-class first sales: “Apologies All Around” by Jeff Soesbe and “Masquerade at Well Country Camp” by Ann Pino. Our Classic Flash #3 is a science fiction story from 1962 — when communications were a little more primitive. And Bruce Holland Rogers discusses deadlines, genres, and the state of writing.

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An Interview with Bruce Holland Rogers

1 Feb 2008 00:00:01 EST

Bruce Holland Rogers is an award-winning fiction writer and teacher, best known for his short — sometimes extremely short — fiction. Among many other places, his stories were included in both the original 1992 Flash Fiction anthology that coined the term and its 2006 follow-up, Flash Fiction Forward. The Keyhole Opera, a collection of his short stories, won the 2006 World Fantasy Award for best collection. He also wrote Word Work: Surviving and Thriving As a Writer, and is on the faculty of the Whidbey Writers Workshop MFA program. His “Reconstruction Work” appeared in Flash Fiction Online’s inaugural issue.

Though he bases himself in Eugene, Oregon, we caught up with him in London, where he’s living until July, 2008.

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Souls of the Harvest

1 Feb 2008 00:00:01 EST

You can’t harvest a crop without killing something. A combine ain’t particular, it cuts whatever’s in its path. There’s no malice in it, just a part of the season, like rain and heat. Food or nesting draws critters in, but come harvest the combine keeps rolling. Some run and live. Others don’t, and don’t.

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Apologies All Around

1 Feb 2008 00:00:01 EST

“Daddy!” Rachel shouted. “There’s a robot at the door.”

Winston Sinclair hoped it wasn’t one of those sales bots. They were danged near impossible to get rid of. He picked up Rachel and raised the viewport she had used. The robot was three feet tall, grey, squat, plain-looking.

“Robot, what do you want?”

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Masquerade at Well Country Camp

1 Feb 2008 00:00:01 EST

I lie on my cot, staring at the pine rafters. They treat us like children here, keeping us to a schedule, always requiring an afternoon nap.

A few cots over, Olive is coughing. Anyone would, with every window open and the dust blowing in. I wonder how much the doctors really know about our ailment. Dust makes us cough more, but still the windows must be kept open.

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Untechnological Employment

1 Feb 2008 00:00:01 EST

This story is from the November 1962 edition of Analog Science Fact - Science Fiction.

It was written at a time when communication required much more effort, and this story is, as a result, a little bit difficult to read. Be prepared. But it pulled me along, and I hope it does you as well. Enjoy! —Ed.

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Allegory vs. Symbolism — What’s It All Mean?

3 Jan 2008 00:00:01 EST

In this article, Mark Freivald uses Bolesław Prus’s "Mold of the Earth" and other stories to discuss the difference between allegory and symbolism.

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The Materialist

1 Jan 2008 00:00:01 EST

Dr. Albrecht woke from his afternoon nap to find himself on fire. At least, that’s how it felt: like someone had taken an acetylene torch and given his body a good talking-to. In the seconds it took him to wake, scream, and leap from the cot, tearing off his nightshirt and batting wildly at flames that, to his surprise, did not seem to exist, Albrecht came to the conclusion that the source of his agony went deeper than a bit of charred flesh.

His reflection in the bathroom mirror gave him his first clue: his skin shimmered. . . .

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James Brown is Alive and Doing Laundry in South Lake Tahoe

1 Jan 2008 00:00:01 EST

Stu is driving to South Lake Tahoe to take his post-partum-strained woman to the snow, to take his nine-week-old infant through a storm, to take his neglected dog in a five hour car ride, and to take himself into his woman’s good graces. And he’s hungry. Even though Stu has considered, more than once, stopping the car on the whitened highway and plunging himself over a cliff so he could plop into a cozy pile of snow and hide until his wife is logical again or the baby is able to tend to itself, he’s not dressed warmly enough for months or years in a snowbank, he has no snacks in his jacket, and he must focus on The Family.

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The Human Clockwork

1 Jan 2008 00:00:01 EST

Every morning, the Human Clockwork arrived at the park promptly at 6:25. He’d set up his clock face behind his pedestal and then he’d arrange himself in front of it, and by 6:30 he’d have his arms just so, pointing straight at his feet. It was his duty to keep perfect time, and he never failed.

But this morning, there was a woman in his spot when he arrived at the park. He blinked at her, as if blinking would make her disappear, but no matter how quickly he blinked, she was still there. In his spot. Immovable. Impossible.

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Speed Dating and Spirit Guides

1 Jan 2008 00:00:01 EST

“I can do this,” I told my squirrel. If Babycheeks—my totem and spirit-guide—answered, it was lost beneath the bar’s raucous gabble of small talk and pick-up lines.

A hostess with shiny teeth and a clipboard approached. “Are you here for Insta-Date?”

“Yeah.” My voice squeaked. “I pre-registered. Joseph Ahanu.”

“That’s a pretty name. Hawaiian?”

“Algonquin.”

“Go ahead and sit at table H. . .”

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Mold of the Earth

1 Jan 2008 00:00:01 EST

One time I happened to be in Puławy with a certain botanist. We were seating ourselves by the Temple of the Sibyl on a bench next to a boulder grown over with mosses or molds which my learned companion had been studying for several years.

I asked what he found of interest in examining the irregular splotches of beige, grey, green, yellow or red?

He looked at me distrustfully but, persuaded that he had before him an uninitiated person, he proceeded to explain. . .

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Flashes for a Happy New Year

1 Jan 2008 00:00:01 EST

Skip this and just read great new flashes, if you like. (If you want more detail than you get on this page, click here.)

There’s something in this issue for everyone: Eric Garcia, author of the Anonymous Rex series, contributed a demented little ditty called "The Materialist", Stefanie Freele brings us down to earth with "James Brown is Alive and Doing Laundry in South Lake Tahoe", Beth Wodzinski takes us on a side trip with "The Human Clockwork", and Rod M. Santos gives us a delightful modern fantasy called "Speed Dating and Spirit Guides". And, of course, we’re still mining the archives of publicly accessible Classic Flashes: this month’s "Mold of the Earth", written by Boleslaw Prus and translated by Christopher Kasparek, comes from 1884.

And for the writers among you, be sure to check out our interview with Liberty Hall founder Mike Munsil.

Happy reading!

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Liberty Hall Writers: An Interview with Mike Munsil

1 Jan 2008 00:00:01 EST

This issue we sit back, spit on the mat, and talk to Mike Munsil. He’s founder and proprietor of Liberty Hall, talks about his writers’ workshop and how it helps writers like this issue’s Beth Wodzinski and Rod M. Santos.

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Reconstruction Work

1 Dec 2007 00:00:01 EST

Next to the casket, I leaned on my cane and admired the work my brother practitioners had done on Elizabeth Fordham Roth. She had died at 80, but she did not look a day over 60 and might have only been sleeping. Physical reconstruction. Cosmetics. Those are the easier mortuary arts. It is the work of an afternoon to sew eyelids shut with invisible stitches, to close a slack jaw, to smooth out wrinkles and rouge pallid cheeks back to seeming life. My branch of the discipline is far more subtle and is never finished in a single afternoon.

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I Speak the Master’s Will

1 Dec 2007 00:00:01 EST

I’m in Hell. That must be what this is. I can’t fathom a god who would possibly interpret this as heaven, crammed in this damned steamer trunk; me and twenty three other Wayang Kulit shadow puppets, entombed with the smell of ox hide and musty bamboo.

I dream of a life before this one. A life in which I spoke a language other than the one the Master speaks for me. A life in which I could move my own vulgar arms, speak my own profane will, make my own damning decisions. I’ve been here so long I can’t remember what I did to deserve damnation, but a shadow of that life tells me I do.

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What The Moon Brings

01 Dec 2007 00:00:01 EST

I hate the moon—I am afraid of it—for when it shines on certain scenes familiar and loved it sometimes makes them unfamiliar and hideous.

It was in the spectral summer when the moon shone down on the old garden where I wandered; the spectral summer of narcotic flowers and humid seas of foliage. . .

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Our Inaugural Issue!

1 Dec 2007 00:00:01 EST

You can skip the details and just read stories, of course!

But if you want to know what’s coming, here it is. We have stories by an established pro, Bruce Holland Rogers, as well as an up-and-comer named Suzanne Vincent. And a Classic Flash from H.P. Lovecraft rounds us out.

You can tell us what you think, too, on the Flash Forum. Log in and discuss the stories, or, if you’re a writer, discuss your own works in progress.

All of this means that this is your new source for quality flash fiction—complete stories at 1000 or fewer words—starting right now.

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Don’t Miss It!

1 Dec 2007 00:00:01 EST

We’re sponsoring Liberty Hall’s end-of-year "flash challenge", and interviewing proprietor Mike Munsil.

Eric Garcia, the only guy I know who could pull off three complete novels about dinosaurs who disguise themselves as people, will provide us with a new story.

Plus more classic flash, more great art, and more stuff that hasn’t even been thought of yet!

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