In honor of our Flash Fiction Contest, which closes on Sunday, we are dedicating this month’s New Writing on the Net post to the excellent flash and micro fiction that has been published online this month! Take inspiration from these powerful beauties and get your own in before time runs out on our contest!
The exorcist I hire off of Craigslist says the best chance for success is on the eve of a solstice. Is it smart to wait three months? I answer the exorcist’s emailed questions—No, Edith isn’t causing anyone harm; No, Edith isn’t creating any physical property damage; Yes, Edith’s staying put in the powder room. Sounds like the perfect houseguest, the exorcist replies. We set a date in June.
“5 Greek Refusals: a micro series” by Matt Bell | Fractured, May 18
Because after the virgin prince firmly explained his refusal to sleep with the younger, he expected her to die of lust and longing, as all others had—but instead she simply took no further notice of him, spending her days as she always had: at her loom or upon her harp, or else smashing her mallet against loud-clacking croquet balls, her blows sending the bright orbs spinning across the prince’s father’s vast palace lawns. How angry the prince was at her refusal to be affected by him, how in his anger he followed her everywhere, begging her to die, whining out his reasons!
“Our Vices” by Dominica Phetteplace | wigleaf, May 24
I’m not sure how, but fan fiction began to creep into our re-enactments. Blame it on the perniciousness of pop-culture. We fought the Civil War again, but this time the Union was led by Hermione Granger. The Confederacy was commanded by a Hitler-Voldermort hybrid we started calling Hitlermort to save time.
I continued to participate, even though it was stupid. Thor won the Iowa Caucuses, with the remaining Avengers in a nine-way tie for second and this time Joe Biden, aka me, came in eleventh place.
I told the class I didn’t want to be Joe Biden anymore.
“Dowsed” by Michael Credico | The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, May 27
My mother was upset there was no word for parents who had lost a child, no equivalent to widow, widower, and orphan. “Bereaved,” she said. “Imagine living the rest of your life modified like that.”
“This Song” by Tara Isabel Zambrano | Trampset, May 29
Don’t ask why I notice but I do, that I am wearing his socks and he’s wearing my favorite white t-shirt, and I’m seeing the sky behind him, a plane several thousands of feet above, crossing over a silent millisecond between us.
Curated by Cole Meyer