A Changing of the Guard

We have some exciting news about changes at NFFR. First off, we welcome web designer, Keith Powell, who has worked with some of the classic qualities of the NFFR original design (sheep, sheep, and sheep!) and Keith has done wonderful, miraculous things. Please take a look!

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2021 New Flash Fiction Prize Results!

Thanks so much to this year's judge, Tara Isabel Zambrano! The results are in and we're looking forward to bringing you the contest issue soon including all the stories from the shortlist. Congratulations everyone! Thank you to everyone who entered this year. Your...

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2021 New Flash Fiction Prize Shortlist

Thank you to everyone who entered the New Flash Fiction Prize this year. The following 10 stories have been chosen by the editors and sent on to this year's judge, Tara Isabel Zambrano. A Taste of SaltThat Black NothingBoxCreation MythOlla's DaughterGrandma's Shrunken...

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Dear Leo #7

In Praise of Writing “Dull” by Leonora Desar Or how a simple writing prompt is better than all the good ideas— One day, instead of writing, I was doing my usual. I googled: “writers better than I am” and “writers that will inspire me to get off my butt.” I came across...

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Exciting BIFFY 50 News!

Huge Congratulations to the writers of 3 NFFR Stories that have been named to the Best British & Irish Flash Fiction 2019-2020 aka the BIFFY50! Also high five to Founding Editor Meg Pokrass as well for her story in Electric Lit, one of our Meg favorites! More Than...

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The Anton Chekhov Prize for Very Short Fiction

Contest Guidelines: Open June 5th, 2020. Entries for the Anton Chekhov Prize for Very Short Fiction should be 800 words or less.  Submissions should be unpublished and in .rtf, .doc, or .docx format. Deadline is July 15th, 2020. The entries will be read blind by...

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Best Small Fictions 2020 Nominations!

Congratulations to the following writers! Here are links to read their wonderful stories. The Truth about Men by Angela Readman Game Theory by Merridawn Duckler Eternal by Hugh Behm-Steinberg Fable Number 1: Des Moines, Iowa by Luke Rolfes Ward Rounds by Alexis...

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Pushcart Prize Nominations, 2020

The following stories have been nominated by our staff for the Pushcart Prize, 2020! Congratulations! Nuala O'Connor "There But For" Rebekah Bergman "Certain Solitary Creatures" Hugh Behm-Steinberg "The Names of Things" Frankie McMillan "The Winter Swimming of my...

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Open Call: Prose Poetry Issue!

We are open for submissions for a prose poetry issue through December 1st! Send us your very best prose poetry, no more than 250 words for each poem, 3 poems in a single word document (750 words max per all 3). Please know that we can’t do special formatting with our...

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Dear Leo #6

Writing Your Inner Child Or how to see with “Salvador Dali Eyes” (an awesome story by Douglas Campbell that you’re going to wish you wrote yourself)by Leonora DesarSometimes (often) being an adult is lame. Not to mention writing about it. By writing from a kid or...

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The Storyteller of Aleppo by Donna Obeid

In the barren cold camp, you wear a dusty cape and top hat, wave my cane as if it were a wand and tell me your dream-stories, one after the next, your words spun and tossed like tethers into the air.

Fulfilling by Fiona McKay

Kate is not ‘imagining it’. There are small tufts of pale fluff on her neck, and no, it’s not ‘just a tissue in the washing machine’ as John suggests. There’s nothing drifting off his shirts, nothing clinging to Ella’s favourite black top, Josh’s Minecraft t-shirts. It’s more solid than tissue, just on her clothes. And only she can see it.

Get Your Authentic Stardust Here by JP Relph

The night the sky cracked, I was sprawled on the hood of my car beside that good-for-nothing boy, naming constellations, ignoring his fingers on my neck.

Bog Iron by Shane Larkin

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.

Amelia Earhart Knew Seven Latin Words for Fire by Joe Kapitan

Ignis, the flaming wreckage, bubbling rubber, liquified cloth, her skin charred and blistering, acrid smoke, the tiny thunders of survival’s kicks