Belmont station and it’s 2 a.m. and the father’s stranded out here somewhere in who the hell knows on his way back home, when it should have been a straight shot but has somehow taken him a good two hours to just end up getting lost like the sad-eyed dogs you’ll see tied up side of the highway sometimes and plus he’s starving, so bad it feels like pennies in his guts.
And now you should say goodbye to the ones you love. Loop a pair of clouded binoculars around your neck. Pack a peanut butter sandwich and a rusty apple and a bottomless bottle of water.
In this installment of State of the Art, New Flash Fiction Review editors and recent contributors—those winning and commended in this year’s contest—share insights on their writing lives and processes.
Issue 30 features work by Shane Larkin, Fiona McKay, Donna Obeid, Jennifer Lai, Richard Holinger, Melissa Llanes Brownlee, Kathleen Latham, Lynn Powers, Elizabeth Fletcher, and JP Relph.
We make stops on the way to our bog plot to look at the little skeletons. Dad tells me about them. Curlews and skylarks in dancing poses. Tiny skulls.