I don’t know when she moved in, but it was a long time ago now. You’ve got to understand, I’ve been driving the tram four nights a week for 34 years. Back and forth, back and forth, eight hours a night. Her building went up in the late ‘90s. Lots of construction over there then. […]
Out at the sisters’ place, in the marsh at the bottom of their land, a man stands neck-deep in the water. It is summer, and the marsh is warm with a thick green sludge on top. The man watches the tiny black flies that bounce along the green sludge, and the larger dragonfly that lands […]
The skunk will not leave my home. This has created a situation similar to the siege of Carthage, where I am barricaded in my bathroom, unable to slip past my assaulting foe. Except, instead of sheltering in a grand city, I’m sitting on the toilet. And instead of besieging Romans, it’s a little black-and-white demon. […]
1. The Fire & the Name The first thing you ought to know about cows is we’re all a bunch of gossips. You try standing in a field all day, chewing your cud and swatting at flies, then gathering ’round the trough to discuss who’s been sent to the north pasture or which rooster’s got […]
1 Trevor stood at the front door of the house. He closed his eyes and tried to do the breathing exercises Dr. Anand had recommended, but his heart raced and his palms sweat. His knees began to shake. “Please don’t piss yourself,” Trevor whispered to himself. He opened his eyes and looked at the house […]
The fire started somewhere near the southeast end of the building. It spread quickly through the open corridors — the wide hallways built specifically to allow wheelchairs and hospital beds to pass unobstructed — sucking in oxygen and climbing from the floor to the walls to the ceiling with ease. There wasn’t a sprinkler system […]
February 7, 2042 Glen Ellyn It’s a Friday afternoon, that last day. There’s over a foot of week-old snow on the ground. The last several days have been bright and sunny — too cold for snow — but today the sky is gray and heavy. Naomi and I are having a late lunch when the […]
The motel curtains are the color of dried blood, and someone’s scratched a crucifix into the wall between the twin beds. I can’t stop looking at it. The longer I stare, the more it looks like a child did it—uneven arms, the nail marks gouged too deep, like someone didn’t know when to stop, or […]
The children load me into the trailer. Padlock the tailgate. Take the dirt road past the sanitation plant, the tannery, the strip club, the gun store. I’ve known nowhere but the farm, the pen, the milk bottles & dust & feed. The children laugh in the cab, turn their muffled music up. I put my […]
*2025 Refractions: Genre Flash Fiction Prize 2nd Place Winner* “Choose to disconnect—yes or no.” The doctor turns a tablet toward Glettus. Glettus scans the med-bay, his hatchmates circling him, the other ailing bodies beyond his bed. He wants to feel angry—that delicious rage the hatch could stoke within each other ahead of a mission—but the […]
*2025 Refractions: Genre Flash Fiction Prize 3rd Place Winner* Viscous green fluid sloshes and nearly spills as its container is hurled down the slick café countertop. Mel reaches out to stop it, much to the amusement of the man behind the bar. “Always wanted to try that!” He chuckles and snaps his suspenders. Mel says […]
GERMINATION The first bud sprouts from Charlie’s left thumb. You think you’re dreaming. Another nightmare, but so much more fantastical than the ones you usually have. Charlie crashing his plane in the jungle. Charlie’s parachute failing. Charlie screaming as napalm melts flesh off bone. Charlie, reporting for duty one leg short, clumsily hefting a gun […]