I am a doll.
I was born sixty years ago at Görlitz in Germany, in a hut in Stalag VIII-A.
I am the one for whom a Belgian prisoner of war, number 15825, opened his clenched fists and to
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Short Fiction
As an international publishing house, in a time where reading for pleasure is at an all time low, our mission is to address this challenge. Through innovative mediums, that open access to literature, we allow our partners to create connections, offer knowledge and culture, bring joy to their communities and progress society. Because big ideas are often born in idle moments when reading a short story, poem, or comic strip.
Wherever you are, whomever you are trying to reach with an emotional gift of a story, you may choose from a plethora of collections and genres from Short Édition: Humour, joy, nostalgia, shades of love, slice of life, magical realism, sci-fi...
Fiction and creative non-fiction written by writers worldwide, and published by Short Édition’s editorial team, in the form of short stories, poetry, and comics. Thousands of works written by thousands of paid writers across five continents.
Learn more about our Quarterly Review, content, and editorial servicesWell-written content is delivered in creative ways to enjoy a good read, either on an eco-friendly scroll to collect & share, or via smartphone for a mindfulness break.
Created in 2015, the iconic Short Story Dispenser™ exists in many shapes and sizes to stun the general public, students, patients in a hospital, and commuters and travelers, with a quick read.
Learn more about our Dispensers
I am a doll.
I was born sixty years ago at Görlitz in Germany, in a hut in Stalag VIII-A.
I am the one for whom a Belgian prisoner of war, number 15825, opened his clenched fists and to
... [+]
Nelson Packrat was a pack rat who lived in a small cave. One day his mother looked around the tunnels of their nest and thought it was time for a spring cleaning.
"Nelson, I can barely get into
... [+]
It had been silent for several seconds and I knew I had to say something.
"So we're not Italian?"
It was the only question I could think of. I could tell my mom wanted more but was relieved I
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