Category: Prose
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Not Knowing
For the first couple of weeks, it was mostly about the sex. When you’ve got fifteen years to make up for, and you only get to see other a few times a week, usually just for an hour or two, there’s not much leisure for doing sudoku together. Fiction by Tom Gartner
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Beetle
Elizabeth could no longer ignore the man across the aisle on the train. His legs sprawled across two seats and his belly nestled like a basketball between his thighs. A white lip of flesh bulged between his pants and his shirt. He had been watching Elizabeth since she got on at Chambers and Elizabeth had…
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Release
After the regime has fallen, and the reek of burning documents been aired from the grim offices of Internal Security, still no one ventures down to the basement. On its shelves, thousands of jars, thousands upon thousands. Their tops have grown gritty with dust, and their labels—pasted on so carefully—curl up like dying leaves. Flash…
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Lesion
The clinic made me sign a form of consent before the 3-D Ultrasound. Under her uniform, the nurse’s breast is pressed against the crook of my leg. She braces me for support as she eases the cold apparatus inside. Flash Fiction by Caitlin Andrews
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Coyote Country
Remember what you were told about the proper greeting. You must not look him directly in the eye. You must not speak unless you are asked a direct question. You must do what you are told. This is very important. Sometimes your mind wanders and you say what you are thinking. You know this is…
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Wear Your Seatbelt / X and Y Squared / Husk and Core
I practice the front crawl. I push. I breathe. I sturdy myself. I blow out when my head’s in. See and hear the gurgle. In order to keep myself aligned. Flash Fiction by Kim Chinquee
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The Man from the Egg
I had been just as surprised as one might expect when, at the age of ten, while making breakfast one morning, I cracked open what I thought was a normal chicken egg and found, covered in egg white, a tiny naked man—full head of hair, a Roman nose, strong tightly-muscled arms. So statuesque, lying prone…
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The Places You Go When You’re Alive
I walked into the kitchen and peered through the sliding door. Brad stood on the deck. The night had sucked him into a time machine that spit him back out looking more worn and tired than ever before. He rubbed his face and held a jack knife in his right hand. The kind my father…