55,000 Miles for a Pound of Honey by Rachael Smart
A bee is on the tarmac going slow for sugar. She tells him bees are yawnsome. I mean, look how they surrender after just one sting, she says, and wearing those identical…
A bee is on the tarmac going slow for sugar. She tells him bees are yawnsome. I mean, look how they surrender after just one sting, she says, and wearing those identical…
When Mother died I got together with Shauna and she was everything Mother was but possibly better. She didn’t need face creams, nor a forearm when going down steps, and she didn’t…
In this episode I read seven connected flashes about one man’s struggle with his daily commute, entitled ‘The Commuter’. If you have a similar collection of flashes and would like to read them…
The man lifts the sandwich and bites, as he has done every twenty-six seconds since birth. With casual clothes in acrylic hues, dangling legs and nodding head, he represents tranquility, an at-peace…
When they came to fetch me, they came with nets dragged behind them. I watched them getting slower and slower as they went, their backs bending and their heads down, as heavy…
Emily, a divorced high school teacher whose ex-husband gambled away their retirement fund, whacked me in the chest with a baseball bat. “Harder. Like Barry Bonds” “Who?” “Nevermind. Just swing with all…
In this episode I talk to writer Nick Black about his new flash fiction collection ‘Positive and Negative’, literary competitions, and writing one story per year. Nick also reads three pieces from…
Don’t wear the little green dress, the one we bought you for your sixteenth birthday. The one that matches your eyes. The one I joked about. “Nice, but where’s the rest of…
This is an introduction episode to this podcast, which includes an overview of flash fiction and a short piece of fiction of 100 words, entitled ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, The Magnificent Marco’. Over…
Erika shaves her head late Sunday evening. Thick black ringlets clog the sink. Dust the floor. Curl against one another like fists. Erika feels neither heavier nor lighter minus the hair. But…
He was still waiting, long after the funeral director had left. A shadow of a man sitting at the furthest pew from the altar. Mrs Martin came in late to help with…
Back then, I didn’t notice things. And I didn’t take them personally. The cracked brown linoleum. The china cabinet filled with gimcrack treasures. The strip of ink-black mildew under the shower door.…