age, family, flash, flash fiction, freedom, life, Lora Kilpatrick, micro fiction, rage, relationships, short stories, short story, vss The coffee pot slips from his hand and hits the tile in a million tiny pieces of it’s all your fault. via Pocket

crime, father, flash fiction, party, Paul Heatley, punishment, rape, short stories, short story, writing Jordan Naylor raped me. via Pocket

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

There’s blood on Dee’s jacket. Dee reckons Bobby knows where he took the dog. “I buried him after.” “I didn’t want him to go. But you took him. Now you’re sayin you think I wouldn’t wanna say goodbye to my fuckin dog?” via Pocket

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

Despite the cold, the girl wore little. She paced the pavement outside the drug store in a pair of denim cut-offs and a too-small white tank top that showed off the tops and sides of her red bra. A Day of the Dead skull tattoo covered her left shoul…

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

Adam Shaw, children, eggs, flash, flash fiction, husband, marriage, micro fiction, old age, short stories, short story, vss, wife Gilbert’s particular about his eggs. I’m cooking them when he walks in, just as I have every morning for the past 53 ye… Sunny Side Up – Spelk via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2E94ApP

brother, court, family, flash fiction, football, Jack Fisher, match, short stories, short story, writing Alison zips her jacket up to her neck. She looks down at her daughter beside her, wishing she had insisted on a coat. Lucy is as stubborn as she…

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io

by David Cook Mary wrote love letters to the sea. In them, in careful handwriting, she would rhapsodise about its hues of turquoise and steel, describing how its gentle ripples calmed her heart or,…

by Paul Beckman Valentine’s Eve for men at the mall. I stopped to buy Amy a gift hoping to cement a relationship that had just gotten off the ground with a few hellos and one shared table at lunch …

by Bill Diamond The beast hunkers down in the concealing dark. Its patience is a skill both innate and practiced. Predation has always been difficult. It was so in the ancient times when the quarry…

by Alexis Wolfe I knew Steve was a would-be polygamist when I married him. Being the first wife, it didn’t feel so pressing. When Sandy came along, just slightly younger than me and ready to take o…

by Laure Van Rensburg She was the warm breath in your ear that told you to speak to the quiet girl at the end of the bar — the dare you followed until my number was stored in your phone. She was th…

by Mark Mayes You’re greedy, she says. Someone who was once related to me. She still exists, but is no one to me now. They found me with the empty (but for one spoonful) tub of cherry ice-cream. We…

by Paul Heatley Despite the cold, the girl wore little. She paced the pavement outside the drug store in a pair of denim cut-offs and a too-small white tank top that showed off the tops and sides o…

by Paul Heatley Jordan Naylor raped me. It happened at a party. There was alcohol. People said I was drunk, but I wasn’t drunk enough. I watched him do it. I didn’t let him. He put his hands around…

by Paul Heatley “Where’d you take my dog, boy?” There’s blood on Dee’s jacket. Dee reckons Bobby knows where he took the dog. “I buried him after.” “You didn’t bring him back here?” “You didn’t wan…

by Jack Fisher Alison zips her jacket up to her neck. She looks down at her daughter beside her, wishing she had insisted on a coat. Lucy is as stubborn as she is. I want people to see my shirt, sh…

by Paul Heatley After a few drinks, someone in the clubhouse will always bring up Bo. They wax nostalgic about him, about the good-ol’-days. Inevitably, they wonder where he’s gone. No one knows. M…

by Christine Baerbock I had a man and he was good. I liked the way he peeled dollars from his money clip for my whiskey thirst. His jaw clenched as I rattled ice cubes in my empty glass. More, more…