Ed Hopper Train Painting

welcome to the future of flash

read the freshest flash

enjoy our newest micro

Gizzard

By Kristen Skovsgard

My uncle showed me a casting from one of his hawks. I asked if it was the same as a pellet, and he said it was, but with hawks you call it a casting. I knew what a pellet was because earlier that year a lady in khakis had come to my classroom and handed…

Pulse

By Bruce Scandling

We walk cautiously along the trail in leaden morning light, here for the spawning salmon and for a change. That’s how she said it on the phone last week, my daughter: I need a big fucking change of scenery. The forest is dank, decayed, ripe with torn-open fish carried from the creek by bears. Alders…

Sixty, Fifty-Nine, Fifty-Eight

By Emily Rinkema

On our first date, our only date, I lied to you when you asked me about my biggest fear. Sinkholes, I said. My therapist had suggested I cultivate a tangible one, something I could see and avoid rather than my fear of time, which was abstract and ubiquitous enough to be paralyzing. The lies came…

Sugar Highs & Lows

By Rachana Pathak

The teenagers on the subway were giddy as they downed their Starbursts, shrieking and giggling, trading yellows, reds, and oranges. Reeya remembered those days of sugar highs and how they had whispered about who did what or did not do what. And how she and her sister had walked, arms linked, behind their father on…

Heartbeat

By Jisun Park

I trace a line from the top of her forehead to the tip of her nose, a peachy pink so delicate it has the silken texture of a rose petal at the peak of its bloom. Her tiny lips pucker, and her fingers flex open, revealing a hand in its most miniature form, more doll…

Send us your stories

Always Free. Always Open. Professional Rates.