• Short Stories

    Touch Hunger

    by Sandy Meredith On the climbing wall, somewhere after halfway up, there’ll be a hold beyond which lies the peak. Ascent seems impossible; my only hope is that I have the strength to climb back down without falling. But if I stick to the hold and wait for the fear of falling to subside and that drug of cool calm to settle through my body, taking the peak might come more easily than I expect. And if I do it brings such a surge of warmth, it makes me smile, it gives me hope that I might make it up…

  • Short Stories

    The Circular Book

    Caroline Walker’s living room was largely how you’d expect one belonging to a librarian to look. All of the walls were hidden behind bookcases; each bookcase was full, of both books standing upright and other volumes which lay sleeping across their tops. A space crammed with words, well-loved and well-used.

  • Short Stories

    Wrought

    The little face looked up at him, or rather was turned towards him while the gaze was fixed stage right. The eyes were enormous, but they had to be, he supposed.

  • Flash fiction

    Bubbe’s Shiva

    Cover the mirrors. Even the bathroom mirrors. You’ll need double-stick tape or removable plastic hooks. The bathroom mirrors are flat against the wall. Not built for mourners. The mirrors are dealbreakers, you’ll need to find a way. 

  • Flash fiction

    My Many Dads

    Dad was up early. He’d snuck into my bedroom like a trained spy and whispered: “Jack, wake up. I just got the call from Q. I have to go.” I could smell the Old Spice, drenched to mask the carousing from the night before.

  • Short Stories

    A Running Tide

    Contoured into the paint blistered window frame, Paula sits in the unused boatshed. She inhales the scent of damp salt through the rattling window, as a high tide slides along the banked-up shingle.

  • Short Stories

    The Prado

    When I entered the café there was only one open table for two in the middle. For a few moments I sat alone. He tapped me on the shoulder just as my coffee arrived. “Do you mind?” he said in a light Spanish accent

  • Flash fiction

    Meemaws

    We hadn’t been in touch like we shoulda done, what with Jeb stationed in Texas, and then we had the twins, and then the basement flooded…it was just one rash a shit after another and we just kinda focused on keepin our heads above water to be truthful.

  • Flash fiction

    The Fifth Stage

    Penny propels her trolley along, monitoring her personal digital assistant as she goes. The PDA is strapped to her wrist so convenient and annoying at the same time. She checks, picks, scans and packs, then dodges past dithering customers with their trolleys and kids.

  • Flash fiction

    Menschenleer

    The mist tumbles down the mountain, an avalanche of air, engulfing every potato plot, sprig of heather and dwelling in its path. One by one, the glimmers of candlelight in the stone houses extinguish, the animals stop grazing and raise their heads. The birds fall silent. 

  • Flash fiction

    The Change

    Her breasts are the first to disappear. Such a strange sensation, the wind cutting through her where the flesh had curved out over her meaty ribs, where blood had flowed through deep blue veins, and now there is nothing.

  • Flash fiction

    Just Like Me Not Like Me at All

    This is a story about a traffic jam love triangle love straight line. This is a story about me and Curtis. This is a story about me and Johnny. This is a story about a November snowstorm in Indianapolis Kansas City Cincinnati that dumped enough inches during evening rush hour it made its own traffic jam.

  • Short Stories

    The New Broom

    She’d taken the wind out of his sails. He gripped the edge of the dining-room table. At least she couldn’t see his face. She stood behind his chair, leaning over his shoulder as she refilled his teacup. They were alone; the other residents had departed. He blinked as he realised she was still speaking.