Short Fiction Short Fiction
Short Fiction

Hopping Mad

Kathryn England

"This is the last straw," Alma said. She had just opened the mail at the kitchen table.
Sitting opposite, Walter peered over the top of his newspaper. "What straw is that?"
"It's anothe ...  [+]
Short Fiction

The Sweetest Stench

Kevin Brown

My father died of heart failure the same Chinese New Year girls began to draw my eye over my ire. I wasn't present for his death but figured us square since he wasn't present for my life. 
Though ...  [+]
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction

An Unwanted Guest

Peter Barbour

I picked the rod tip up and swung it back to eleven o'clock, then snapped my wrist. The line flew out over the water, unfurling. At its maximum length, it settled on the water's surface with hardly a ...  [+]
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction

Plain Cooking

DianeVB Broughton

My sister Ellen likes to tell me I am a good plain cook. Rather than be offended by this, I take a pride in getting the basics right. It doesn't matter how fancy you are if it doesn't taste ...  [+]
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction

Crazy Mother Love

Alain Kerfs

She ruined my life and all she can think about is wearing khaki.
"They make you wear khaki jumpsuits," Mom says. "I look hideous in khaki."
Mom, Dad, and I are parked in front of the Federal ...  [+]
Short Fiction

Ethel Finds Money

Karen Heuler

My adopted sister Ethel sat opposite me at the dinner table, waiting for the food to arrive in the multicolored bowls Mom had gotten long ago, to cheer Ethel up and encourage her to eat. Ethel was ...  [+]
Short Fiction

The Next Right Thing

John Clark

I saw her drop something when she exited the car and rushed into the office building. The vehicle sped off, twirling what looked like an envelope into the busy street.
I hesitated, should I dash out ...  [+]
Short Fiction

Twenty Dollars

Carla Damron

I tilted my rocker back and blinked into the sun. A whirring fly circled my head. None of my efforts to swat the sucker had worked, so if I wanted to smoke, I'd have to put up with him and the likes ...  [+]
Short Fiction

The Hoard

Matt Goldberg

Back in my bleak days, when I used to wait tables at LongHorn Steakhouse, a scrounger friend of mine called me about an opportunity. Those were the days of busting my hump for meager tips from ...  [+]