Grandma gets her episodes at least once a month. She’ll grow out her jaws and if it happens on a rainy day, claws will tear out of her fingers.
Little Red Riding Hood by Katerina Kishchynska
read more
Issue #20 Surreal Flash Fiction
Elephant Women by Jenny Stalter
The man, a sort of apparition, was going around the neighborhood, slipping in and out of our houses.
The Elephant in the Room by Frankie McMillan
My husband is a choker. Every now and again, he’ll cough then suddenly rise, the dinner plate flung to the floor. Food thrown everywhere.
End of Days as the Dairy Queen by Morgana MacLeod
Momma wears her memories like a ratty robe, worn patches rubbed shiny on the seat, diverse stains obscuring the lapels.
Peg by Aimee Parkison
In your favorite foreign movie, the husband wakes at night and sees the elderly neighbor woman in the bedroom, staring at his wife, the young sleepwalker, S, tied to the bed for her own protection.
Marionette by Nod Ghosh
You pull her up on two-strings, one-string, ten strings. You make her dance her necessary steps, and then you stand her still.
The Blood Artist by Jefferson Navicky
Like a meteor on Mars, red dust kicks up from the bricks. The men in white suits with gas masks and their little buzz saws are tethered to the scaffolding by what looks like a large scrunchie.
Only a Skeleton by Stephanie Devine
Fish-Eye—As I breastfeed the baby, he catches me in his fish-eye stare. I’m drinking iced coffee, and condensation has gathered on the glass.
Regeneration by Epiphany Ferrell
The doctor told her it wasn’t exoskeleton. “Melanoma can hide in surprising places,” she said.
The Fourth Wall by Kim Hagerich
My neighbor broke the fourth wall. It started innocently enough when we both found ourselves on our verandas watering the plants and she asked about the music we were playing inside.
A Glass of Wine by Cristina Fernandez Valls
She was having a glass of wine. The bottle was on the table, almost empty. Despite the smell of alcohol on her breath, she looked cold like a marble statue.
Last Look by Phebe Jewell
When Cassie finds the blowup doll in the park a second time, she knows it’s a sign.
Paper House by Robin Littell
Annie lives in a paper house. It is delicate, like the wings of a satin moth. She sits on furniture drawn with charcoal, harsh black lines that leave dusty trails on her skirt.