Tag Archives: flash fiction

Three Stories

Three Stories

FICTION by

A mad woman doesn’t know what she is doing or thinking, I know, so don’t bracket me, I hissed. I don’t open my mouth because it has the garbage of the world that the oceans have left behind, the kind that can choke blue whales and leave them on the shores like impossible spectacles.more

Sunspots on a Calendar Week

Sunspots on a Calendar Week

FICTION by

When you see two people fucking, with a capital F—really sharing the spoils the way it should be—who cares if the Company has gathered at three o’clock on a Monday to hear the top dog give his all-hands spiel? You look, godammit, and you probably laugh. That’s the human thing to do.more

My Daddy Issues Drove Me to the Monastery

My Daddy Issues Drove Me to the Monastery

FICTION by

I wondered if I was the first monk to sneak out to strip clubs. I mean, no one was perfect. Every monk had their thing. Harry always took two desserts instead of one. Miles slept through his pancake shift on the weekend. Phil took like eight paper towels when he dried his hands in the bathroom. But the first monk to sneak off to strip clubs?more

Trauma Bonds

Trauma Bonds

FICTION by

My family had been killed; yours had lived. But there was pressure in that, that grateful weight.more

Two Flash Fictions

Two Flash Fictions

FICTION by

The CEO of our company is a serial killer. All my coworkers adore him.more

Wilson Koewing

Wilson Koewing

BULL Interview by

I didn’t sit down with the intention of writing a dark book. My goal with this book was pretty simple, stark realism. These are the people that I know and that I meet, and these are the problems that I see or that I hear about or that I’ve had or that I’ve witnessed. And while yeah, it’s fucking dark, I feel like life is pretty dark.more

Two Stories

Two Stories

FICTION by

“He’s hiding from God,” she said.more

Both Nasty and Biblical

Both Nasty and Biblical

FICTION by

It was what they had both wanted. Pulsing club music. Alan’s hands on the man’s hips. A bright smile with a wicked hook. When they kissed, it had been more like crashing. Collision.more

THE HAT BOX

THE HAT BOX

FICTION by

The warden stood at the barbed guardrails of the south tower, looked upon the yard, and removed his cap. The December air chilled his nose, pinched his cheeks, and iced along his thinning scalp. And yet even as he shivered, he knew it was insufficient: this cold was not enough to make the prisoners wear the hats.more

Young God in Gym Class

Young God in Gym Class

FICTION by

Young God pulls his Dream Team from a roadside culvert, spins Lucifer from cornsilk—because not having a favorite is beyond even God’s young powers.more