Tiffany's Breakfast Club Fi Smith The night dancing in us, still - city blocks, our backdrop, buildings beam at us, we hood our eyes and pine for a note of rotary splendour. A shaky finger dips sugary filigree toward my lips, conversation splayed out like constellations - so easy for you to swallow a string of pearls, your swan neck undulating. Unsure I suck an opal smooth, guilty nibbles at exquisite ginger garnets, fit to dangle from Lupita's

AN INTERVIEW WITH CATHY ULRICH in discussion with CHARLIE ALLISON CA: Who are some of your favorite (or most formative) literary influences? CU: This is always such a hard question for me to answer because I love so many flash writers, and I'm sure to leave a favorite out if I make a list. Every flash piece I read influences me in some way, and I am so grateful for all the beautiful stories and writers out there. Other than flash, I read a lot of biographies (mostly Depressio

Meat-Hook Hungers Alison Gerhard Based on a true obsession I started chewing on my cheek. It’s a small quirk, and really, who can blame me? I fidget with every part of my body, run my hands through shaved hair, twirl pencils, jitter legs. I scratch my head and like hearing the sound through the bone. If I had antennae I would wash them like a moth in quiet moments. I sometimes fail to thread my needle because I like to run the bright embroidery thread across my lips. So now I

Out Here in the Void Elisabeth Horan I am out here in the void not my bones of course, not any meat left to speak of - not the horrid messy muscle, not the toothpick ossifications, which held me together; a scarecrow, which scares not one single crow. I am out here sending signals to you - and none if it was your fault. Thank you for holding me up those nights. Thank you for laughing into my hands, for holding my head when I hurt so bad. I was the food one, the lack of food w

The world tastes of metal Evan James Sheldon The group of children scrambled and jumped and played their way through the orchard, occasionally lounging in the shade or hitting tree trunks with fallen branches. The orchard hummed gently—a deep buzz thrummed above their smalls heads. Only one little girl noticed. Soon they grew hungry and found the limbs heavy with ripe fruit of all colors. They couldn’t reach the fruit though, and they couldn’t find any fallen among the grass

When Shadow-Beasts Stalk Malina Douglas "Quick, get in—" He slams the door behind me. "Why?" I saw nothing in the twist of brush; the rain-dark, spindly branches. "Creatures," he mutters, stirring to life the embers. I squint and frown but see only black through the frosted and little glass window. "Tell me," I prod, as he sets out bread and steaming soup; potatoes. '" 'Twas a girl your age, but she disappeared-- found only a bone from her ribcage." My hand shakes and my lift

Five Scenarios for Three Sisters Joanna C. Valente i. Easy to imagine them as horses: storm jaws eclipse, grass cools on their hinds; they momentarily forget how to stand. ii. If they were a surgeon's hands: a husband wakes from bypass to find he loves his wife more than his lover, heart failure turns to agape. iii. A light flashes white—they are a camera lens: a woman scoops ice cream, her child asking if she loves him skulls gleam orange, assume position. iv. Drifts of sea-

he must be full by now Stuart Buck once her daughter had called her beautiful so she wore it like silk with a smile of clarified butter that smokes in the pan the second before the heady pits of cumin, mustard and cardamom hit the tarnished copper, release their muddy fragrances in to the kitchen that now is made up of the man who took her ocean away every surface a split lip smile, windows flecked with spittle drawers full of teeth like barbs, curtains of skin and oh god he