Flash Fiction
A series of very short stories for the summer.
“The Penthouse”
We were lying on their bed. We were trying to be still and not ruin anything else. Soon we might even fall into sleep, our least disruptive state of being.
By Helen Phillips
“Lucy’s Boyfriend”
You could be involved in other people’s wanting, whether you knew it or not.
By Anne Enright
“The Boy at War and at Home”
His toy cars are out of gas, creating chaos at the checkpoint, but the plastic horses can still get through.
By Beth Bachmann
“Damages”
Tug too hard on a little footsy, and you wind up with a footsy in hand and a baby in tears.
By Irene Pujadas
“A Children’s Story”
“I want a happy ending,” the mother says, folding up the story and setting it on her nightstand. “You don’t know how to write happy.”
By Weike Wang
“My Cheesecake-Shaped Poverty”
We picked this place to live in for one simple reason: it was dirt cheap.
By Haruki Murakami
“The Preparatory School”
I would go in terrified and feel calm again only once I was at least two blocks away.
By Hebe Uhart
“Blue Island”
His advice for getting back with a girl you couldn’t forget was to call her out of the blue.
By Stuart Dybek