By Jemma Morriss
okay the man …
bigger? not little then is it, nitwit. could be anything.
do the fourth word
it’s not that funny, Margaret
the man something the golden …
try the third word again
fucksake which word, Gerry?
oh my god is that a gu …
Jemma Morriss writes short fiction and is working on her first children’s novel.
By David Berger
This morning I woke up invisible. It took a minute or two to get used to. Wife and kids away. Wow!
It’s freakin’ 50° outside, but I don’t care. Glass and dog shit on the sidewalk Who cares? I’m headed for that house nearby no one talks about. I knock on the door. The lady opens up and I slip by her.
For an hour, I watch girls do odd things with gentlemen. It gets boring rapidly.
Back on the street headed home, I bang into something hard. It’s another invisible person.
“Who is that?” I hear my wife say.
Dave Berger is a union organizer living in New York City. His wife is a “stupendous jazz singer.”
By Michael Bloor
In 1507, Father John Damian (aka Giovanni Damiano de Falcucci), alchemist to James IV of Scotland, announced that he had discovered the secret of flight. Festooned in hen feathers, he stood on the battlements of James’ Royal Castle on Stirling Rock, declared that he was bound for France, and launched himself into space.
He fell straight into the castle midden, breaking his thigh bone. A truly spectacular miscalculation, but the king forgave him.
So could you maybe follow Good King James’ example, and forgive my failure to stop before I’d hit the back-wall of the garage?
Michael Bloor is a retired sociologist living in Dunblane, Scotland. His recent publications include The Cabinet of Heed, Ink Sweat & Tears, Occulum, The Copperfield Review, Scribble, Dodging the Rain, Everyday Fiction, The Fiction Pool, Firewords, and Spelk.
Bartholomew’s crappiest date ever is drifting through London en route to New York. They eat, slurp and snog. Then she whispers, “Bart, can I come back?”
“Hell, yeah!” he replies. So they stop by an M & S where she buys panties in every shade and hangs them like bunting across his tiny studio.
What are we celebrating here, thinks Bart as he’s curled up and pissed off on the hard wooden floor for she’s nabbed his bed.
But by 6, the panties and her are gone and all that remains is a thin, white washing line.
Mary Thompson’s work has appeared in Flash 500, Fish Short Memoir, Ink in Thirds, Retreat West, Reflex Fiction, Flashflood, Ellipsis Zine, the Cabinet of Heed, Memoir Mixtapes, Atticus Review, Spelk, Firewords and Fictive Dream, and is forthcoming at Funicular Magazine. She’s a first reader for Craft Literary Journal.
By Grace Galton
Josh closed the dryer and stole a glance at the girl of his dreams. Five weeks at college and he was still too shy to start a conversation.
The cycle finished. Reluctantly he collected his laundry and left.
He turned, delighted.
“How do you know my name?”
She held up a sock and laughed “Name tag.”
Thanks, Mum he thought.
By John Malone
I’m being interviewed today
For a job.
A cleaning job.
I shave, shower, put on good clothes.
Tidy the place up.
Ten minutes later his car pulls in the driveway.
He comes in, casually dressed, introduces himself.
Looks me over.
Asks questions. Probing questions.
I wince a little.
Relax, he says as he stands up, shakes my hand, smiles.
Now let’s see the house.
I take him through. Show him the vacuum cleaner, the mop, the bucket.
Now, he says, when would you like me to start?
By Sam Averis
We hauled the picnic to the tippy top. New World B&E, plastic cups, a tartan rug, the whole shebang. Even gingham.
“Come on Jill,” he said. “It’s supposed to be romantic.”
I’d hid a bottle of Jack under the sandwiches.
When he stood at the edge to check the view his hair caught the sun, and lit up gold, like a crown. A bit too dramatic for me, man.
When he sat I swiped his chair, for a laugh. He fell wrong, went over head first. Shit.
I wasn’t about to tell his parents. So.
Here we go, then.
Sam’s fiction has been published in journals including takahē, Geometry, Psychopomp, and elsewhere. He is associate editor at Flash Frontier.