She's flying!
Hip, hip, hooray!
Wooooo!

I am a woman of discipline, which is to say: I don’t act at random. But I once slept with a mindreader on a whim.

He was like, "Everyone knows what racoons like to do."

What an asshole.

I had runoff all over. I hadn’t escaped the heartland.

This has to stop— / you're a year dead. I shatter the mirror // with a glare, pace the hall carpet, / but others arrive by dawn, agitated // by thuribles, syllables scattered from / pulpits, daughters buttoned into pastel.

Lydia! What the heck is the hold up? How long does it take to throw a rope over a branch?

In 2011, while addicted to heroin, I briefly delivered pizza for Zeppe's, a chain restaurant in rural Northeast Ohio. 

We are launching a new project, HOBART HANDBOOKS, the first project of which is our Handbook on Baseball, collecting some of our favorite pieces from our last thirteen years of online baseball

On the night during which the events of this essay took place—August 8th, 2003—the San Francisco Giants beat the Philadelphia Phillies 9-1. Barry Bonds hit a home run, yes, his 648th...

The story goes that Mario is Luigi’s brother. Nearly all we know about him is that he is a brother.

I heard about what happened last week.
Oh yeah, that was just—
It wasn't right. I'm really sorry about that.

His family was there. My family was there. My bouquet was made of flies. 

Authors in Flash Fiction International

from the U.S., Mexico, Israel, New Zealand, India, Australia, and Brazil

respond to questions

Watching the blood drain was the moment she knew/ that she didn’t have it figured out."

Okay, now -- I'm going to tie this end to the box. Lydia, throw the other end over our tree. Gilly, stand guard over the box.

Nothing Works: 1

-New York City 2005

I should be through thinking about it. Ok, but I remember just going batshit, breaking up with Vanessa on the payphone. Hanging up, couple minutes,

yesterday I bragged
about having a friend

Yesterday my mom called me up and asked me to buy her cigarettes. I told her no and hung up. 

After the Bombing

Santa did not know how to react to the sight; he only stared. At the granite block, there were three rows filled with ten men, each of whom was Santa. The only thing that

I was afraid the security guards would stop us, but they just shrugged when I took the plane out and put it on the field.  One of them even said something nice like, “Whoa, that is a cool.”  I taxied it from the end zone; it took off and buzzed up into the sky.