Short FictionShort Fiction
Short Fiction

Stop

Conall Walsh

Of the over 5,000 numbers in the English language, it is the number 14 alone that has come to hold a special place in my heart. I'm not a superstitious woman, or a woman at all for that matter. I am ... [+]

Short Fiction

Leaving

Gillian Rolfe

Freddie left the red and white cannon at speed. He whizzed over the open-mouthed crowd in a graceful crescent arc and was quite frankly bored, bored, bored. 
The large frayed net loomed up ... [+]

Short Fiction

Ecdysis

Peter Ott

"Yeah," Darius said into the phone as Jessica, the receptionist, made no attempt to disguise her eavesdropping. "I just finished the work-trade shift and will take a class with Hannah. After, I'll ... [+]

Short Fiction

The Hate Sponge

Paul Blinov

It was a slow, massive roar. A dense wall-of-sound that couldn't possibly be made by one person, no matter how many microphones were hooked up to how many speakers. A scratchy, grainy blend of ... [+]

Short Fiction

The Blue Lady

Susan Ayotte

Melody jostled a dust-coated box into the backseat of her car. The box had remained untouched for the three years she'd been at Harvard. Why had she insisted on bringing it to law school? She'd just ... [+]

Short Fiction

Grandma

Muriel Meunier

The wind was blowing in gusts, buffeting the car, which swerved dangerously towards the precipice. Down below, the waves broke with deafening noise on the rocks. It was magnificent but terrifying. I ... [+]

Short Fiction

Krab

Elvyre Fregnac

I don't want to boast, but I've just pulled off a real masterpiece. At the age of seventy-five, I have become the unrivaled outrageous old lady of Moussy-lès-Limas. I live in this peaceful little ... [+]

Short Fiction

Goodbye Paul!

Olivier Castor

It was November. It was cold; below the seasonal average, the weather forecast said. The wind swept the dead leaves along in gusts. The sky was a cold, clear blue. Really not the weather to be put ... [+]

Short Fiction

Plan B

Nicolas Juliam

I can see myself going into my shower, quite happily, whistling. I can also remember that irresistible urge to smoke. The one that comes upon you anywhere, at any time. And you have to obey it.
So I ... [+]