https://soundcloud.com/americanshortfiction/flood My sister couldn’t see till she was seven, after we’d moved across town for the fifth time because all our landlords “had it out for us,” as my parents said, and the new place was in a better neighborhood because my mom’s boss owned it and had cut us a deal on rent, so we were zoned at a better school that was more equipped to deal with my sister’s seizures than our old school had been—though since she’d switched to phenobarbital the year … [Read more...] about Flood
Flash Fiction
The Clown
The clown counted his murders as he drove the new couple to the house on Rocking Horse Lane. Not few. The Lexus needed air again, according to the little orange light, the man in his passenger seat was offering original commentary on the Clintons, and behind the clown’s left eye a toothache and an earache were collaborating. Not few at all, and some of the murders had been admirably painful, admirably patient. Outside the Lexus it was seventy-two degrees in October, and inside the Lexus, … [Read more...] about The Clown
Surface Treatments
It took less than a month for the coats of paint to completely cover the electrical outlet in the kitchen. So much for coffee. So much for toast. The nearest outlet was in the dining room. The longest extension cord was only six feet. We suggested that our parents buy a longer one, maybe one that wasn’t orange and meant for outdoors, maybe one that wasn’t caked with saffron dirt, but we were only children. Like most children, even the wisest things we said went ignored. This was when Dad … [Read more...] about Surface Treatments
Sign of the Times
Simon had first seen the sign while walking back from the Sunday farmer’s market in early November. It was printed on paper, affixed to a streetlamp, and stuck over an old gig poster. He hadn’t paid it much mind but, as he walked, he saw another copy, and then another still. He had an urge to stop and read one, but he was balancing several oversized aubergines and further investigation seemed an unreasonably cumbersome affair, so he continued home. That evening, as he sliced and fried his … [Read more...] about Sign of the Times
Father as Astronaut
My first assignment was an infestation: albino deer flocking in townspeople's yards, grazing away what little greenery was left. I concocted a spray, biodegradable and harmless to plants but noxious to animals. The herd scattered like skeleton teeth in the foothills and starved. More recently, I was assigned to a village that had seen the face of God, every villager among them, which was why they were losing teeth and hair, why their bones had turned to meringue. His Divine Light had cut … [Read more...] about Father as Astronaut
Dream of the White Worm
https://soundcloud.com/americanshortfiction/corey-flintoff-dream-of-the-white-worm Lynette bends to hug Robbie, who sits at the kitchen table with his coffee. She’s just woken up, and her cotton nightie still smells of their bed. “I dreamed I was grabbed by a huge white worm and dragged into a hole,” she says. “It was horrible.” He strokes her shoulders, feeling like he should pull her onto his lap and comfort her, but the space between the wall and the kitchen table is too narrow. “Jeez. … [Read more...] about Dream of the White Worm