Tag: short story flash fiction

An Hour Past My Bedtime by Francine Witte

Me and Shady Granger playing grownup. Me and he. Just past 12 years old. Me chugging an empty whiskey bottle and him fake-smoking a cigarette. Pretending we are like our own parents. His family came from over there. Forbidden part of town. Part of town where the poor folks live, my daddy always said, and

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Drawing the Curtain by Michael Loveday

After departing in a blaze of mediocrity, Graham Vasey returned to St. Joseph’s Junior School only twice in his life. The first time, it was being renamed the Graham Vasey Junior School, in dedication to his Booker Prize-winning success. He had sprung from such humble origins; he thanked his schooldays, in several interviews, as a

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Toe, Party of One by Aubrie Artiano

You’ve just walked in the door, stripped off your Lycra and turned on the shower when you see it: the toe. Not an ordinary toe; not a toe attached to a foot attached to a leg attached to a body. No. This is a severed toe. Freshly severed. It’s upright and propped against the wall.

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Remember That Time We Went Camping in the Lake District? by Giles Montgomery

There’s something about the sound of a tent zip ripping into the pre-dawn stillness as you push your way out, stiff and bleary, cupping a yawn and blinking away the crusty bits. Rude, raw country air rushes in for a hug and now you’re awake, drinking in the sight of lush, dewy grass descending gracefully

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Unreasonable Behaviour For The Divorce Papers by Katy Ward

The Respondent routinely makes lewd remarks about the physical attributes of other women, which makes the Petitioner feel disrespected and unattractive. “I heard him on the phone to his brother the other day talking about our 16-year-old dogwalker. He said: ‘it should be illegal for her to saunter into my house with such a perfect

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Lights by Gary Duncan

You take the back roads because the motorway scares you, especially at night. Your wife says, “Really? We’re doing this? You can’t drive in a straight fucking line?” She checks her watch and folds her arms noisily. She apologises to everyone when you get there. “I’m not pointing the finger at anyone,” she says, pointing

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