Wearing the Hat — The Sockdolager via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2w4D9cS

via Pocket

Swallowing bubble gum, she stepped from the doorway of a downtown video arcade - pulling her black halter-top down and her miniskirt up for effect - and walked her practised walk to the kerb. Fog was drifting in from the Bay, giving the lights of th…

Love in Its Heart – David Z. Morris – Metaphorosis Magazine via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2OrHP3U

Jim Selleck Wins Flash Fiction Challenge – Indies Unlimited via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2M2u9yK

Get Your Man | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2ALGy5E

The Kiev Metaphor | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2vD78rO

Boy Meets Girl Without All the Bullshit – Electric Literature via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2OTR8uz

Aimee Bender Recommends A Short Story by Lisa Locascio via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2vqLQ1x

Flash Fiction Writing Prompt Red Clouds – Indies Unlimited via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2LWCx2T

The creature she’d had them make cost her the last piece of forest outside Siena. The one with the little medieval chapel in it, the tall umbrella pines shading a forest floor no tourist had ever walked upon. It cost her the two rocky islands just south of Elba, and the lead mines at Piombino, which she had never cared about, and the villa on Lake Garda, which she had, because, so small and intimate, it had been one of her father’s favorites.

“Hello,” answered some whiteman. “Good morning! Could I speak with—?” He mispronounced her last name and didn’t abbreviate her first, as nobody who knew her would do. “Young lady,” he said. “Can you please tell me whether Miss Jean-Louis is there or…

Gashapon girls, machine-made, capsule-kept; Sleeping beauties in bright baubles, Pristine toys oblivious to the world Before you. Crack the eggshell, watch me climb out. I was born knowing how to let you take me apart. You wanted something else but …

My grandmother thinks of her father’s lifespan with awe. “He went from the horse and buggy to a man in space,” she repeats wistfully. “I don’t think anyone will ever see progress like that again. via Pocket

No one ever expects a dinosaur. Especially not on a small town street— pounding the pavement with deadly clawed feet. via Pocket

The pink young woman was followed by a green man. A deafening explosion and hundreds of sparkly green dots illuminated the night sky. His features could be properly distinguished against the darkness. A middle-aged frowning man; he wore glasses and …

The third year of drought left Birdie motherless and mute. For months she’d listened as her parents argued over water, whether small reserves should go to mama’s flower business or the horses. In the end, as hard as it would be to lose the greenhous…

At last the little firefly broke the silence between him and the stranger on the branch. “Lovely night without a moon. Bulb’s still dead on the farmhouse porch to boot. Yes sir, nice and dark.” “Paradise indeed,” the bigger fly responded. via Pocket

FAMILIAR OBJECTS • by Julie McNeely-Kirwan – Every Day Fiction via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2Mcf91m

CHEETO DUST • by Paula Morton – Every Day Fiction via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2KESwxG

François by Didi Wood – Lost Balloon via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2M6aa2Y

Have Your Quarter-Life Crisis at an Owl Sanctuary – Electric Literature via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2KEBj7C

Fallowbound | 365tomorrows via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2vks7Ay

The Children of the Lonely Moon charged, screaming their bloodlust. The Crimson Champions hewed them down, blades flashing, muscles bulging, armor gleaming. Adam Firedrake banged his sword pommel on his shield, taunting a troll, while Lyra darted in…

Opening my eyes, I’m still standing. There’s a bleeding body at my feet that hadn’t been there when I closed my eyes. He rolls over. He looks up, tears streaming back into his hair. via Pocket

“Thanks. Here’s–” The short alien that looks vaguely like an anthropomorphic armadillo shuffles away before I can offer him a tip. At no time while serving me does he make eye contact. That was out of respect. And fear. I’m nobody important. Just a …

Tight bindings held her fast to something upright and cold. She stood blindfolded before her captors. Sweat trickled over her eyebrows, infiltrating throbbing eyes, and then eroding mascara into rivulets over her black cheeks and paralyzed quivering…

By Barry McKinley. This is an extract from A Ton of Malice: The Half-Life of an Irish Punk in London (Old Street Publishing). via Pocket

PAINTING • by Michael Chapey – Every Day Fiction via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2nudne4

Down and Out via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2rv1xos