We have some fantastic flash fiction lined up for October. Here’s a little taster to whet your appetite:
2 October 2020 – ‘An Ever-Fixed Mark’ by Laoise Ní Raghallaigh:
Mornings are the stoic part of the day. Afternoons are fluid, changeable, and could contain a multitude of different activities depending on the weather, the day of the week and whether the big man in the sky is feeling generous. Mornings consist of me and the dog. The dog and me. I let her out to pee, give her breakfast and then we go for a run up the garden.
9 October 2020 – ‘A Heartbeat You Can’t Feel’ by Christine Collinson:
We should be safe down here, far beneath the city. Another night of protection perhaps, but not always of ease. In the tunnels there’s no fresh air, no natural light; only the immense mass of earth above us and the muffled sound of night-time explosions.
16 October 2020 – ‘Gender Screened’ by Jacob Graysol:
I gestured to the whiteboard, FTM under Axel’s name. The ICU was probably the only place we’d tolerate being called out as female-to-male, records alerting medical staff that Axel retained his female genitalia, that his beard came from testosterone injections he’d need every other Monday, and that he’d tolerated general anesthesia when his breasts were removed. ‘Urinal-imbalance only matters to guys like us, top surgery only, or no surgery. And what would we know about MTF bathroom issues? We won’t get famous appealing to just some trans men.’
23 October 2020 – ‘Fifty-Dollar Bonus’ by Robert Mitchell:
Ted McGillicuddy could give the appearance of teetering when he walked. Even though he was a youngish man, he progressed with his shoulders held far back while his neck craned forward. His arms were forty-five-degree angles, lopsided in motion. McGillicuddy enjoyed taking a lunch break on the days that he worked and in particular, he liked shade. It was a hot and seemingly endless summer in Phoenix, New York. McGillicuddy loved the story of the phoenix rising from the ashes. It gave him hope.
30 October 2020 – ‘Animals’ by H.C. Gildfind:
Ran along the road that marks the boundary between the bush and the plantations. A beautiful morning, the air lemony thin, the light and dark of everything magnified somehow, the shade damp and cool with flickers of warmth from an already high autumn sun. A good run. Light on the feet, for a change. Optimistic, for a change. Felt great, until a ute passed slowly on the right. Big dogs in the back: short-coated, barrel-chested, tight-waisted. All tied up and balancing on the tray.
If you want to submit a flash for publication on our website, see out submissions page. We pay £10 for each piece published.
