We flush my sister’s goldfish down the toilet at three in the morning. She says the poor creature suffered a lot due to a condition inherent in all fish past twenty. I hold the flashlight, its beam stuttering over scales. The fish’s eyes look small, like black seeds....
She first appears as a pale-yellow blur in the darkness, her figure solidifying as I approach, all taffeta and ribbon. Her extended thumb seems to glow, accentuated by a dainty white glove. She looks normal. Human. So tangible that I laugh as I pull onto the shoulder,...
First, she cradled it like a child, then put it between her legs and galloped like a horse, next slung it over her shoulder like a rifle, and she stood at attention, the leg at the ready. The leg was more than she had intended to take. So greedy, she chastised. Until...
because the tightness the itch the stiff rectangle smothering us. Because eyes bore when mouth and nose hide. Because micro mold, the uglies. Didn’t get vaccinated because— well duh. Didn’t quarantine because we’re all God’s children except those who aren’t. We didn’t...
Blackout I walked into the theatre halfway through the performance. The ushers were all on their phones, and no one stopped me. All the way down the aisle, in the dark, I dragged a heavy-duty black garbage bag filled with things he had left behind in my apartment....
Gretel wakes in the middle of the night with the kind of hunger that claws at your insides, as if it were a feral creature trying to get back to the woods. She hears Hansel’s soft breathing in the dark, the faint sound of jazz downstairs, and the distant, tremulous...
James was grieving the death of his father, who’d mistrusted Michaela. Too dark a horse, he’d warned. She’d be the one to break him. James had told Michaela this in bed, laughing, after a good and unhurried sexual encounter, the night their daughter was conceived. The...
The first time the house swallowed a sound, we blamed the insulation. A penny fell from your fingers, flashed once, and never landed. By June, the kitchen had gone almost entirely mute. A plate could burst across the linoleum without a crack. We learned to live by...
We absolutely loved reading these microfictions and are back to present the shortlist! Stay tuned to see which stories Steve Almond will pick! Mothers Bake Pogácsas Makbara Burial at Sea My Father's Orange Farm Quiet Survival In the Larchmont House Loosed What It's...
We have nine snowmen in our front yard. One snow child. In the past month or two, I rolled, lifted, and balanced balls of snow for their snow bodies, searched for sturdy twigs. My wife peeled carrots, dumped raisins in a dish, ransacked closets for hats and...
These micro stories demanded more than one reading, invited us into their small containers, and awed us with the mysteries of being human. We're ecstatic to present these longlisted titles and will be back with the shortlist soon, which will be judged by Steve Almond!...
1. The Ghost of Sylvia Plath Sylvia Plath is tired of things, but we have trapped her inside our minds, and we want more. She did her part, and she performed, but we are greedy, and we clap and cheer and stamp our feet for an encore, because she left too soon. Sylvia...