Flash Fiction

For the King it is love at first sight, but can love, no matter how intense and generous, be forced?

A not-quite-human entity roams the world, hoping to find true love before her kind is erased from existence.

A mother, son, and grandmother evacuate a dark, frozen planet earth but dread something even worse.

When you’re married to a witch don’t make empty promises or you may find yourself learning a hard lesson.

Trapped in a life pod attached to a dying spacecraft, an aging, battle-weary engineer has less than three minutes to live and an impossible choice to make. However, thanks to two computer programmers—over 100 years in the past—he’s not alone.

A tightly wound architect is forced to extremes when ridding her house of a man who keeps growing from the walls.

The hole in my floor descended deep into the ground. Damp, mildewy air wafted up.

Online dating can be predatory, but who exactly is doing the hunting?

There’s something I never told you, but I think you’re old enough now to know. I have a magic inside me. It lives between the lines in my fingertips and changes what I touch so I can fly away to a world far less frightening.

A boy’s love for his mother helps him avoid a snare set by the Devil.

The five second burst of sound cycled over and over, breaking against his thoughts like waves against a levy, overwhelming him, washing him away.

One can spend an entire lifetime searching for something, only to find it lies just beyond your grasp – and your lifetime has vanished in the blink of an eye.

Rosie O’Connell smelled only dust where once there had been life.

Jenny hangs the traps every sunset. She measures the string against her arm and wraps it twice around each jar tied with a double knot. She hangs them from the strongest branches of the big dead oak on Hangman’s Hill.

There is something special about desert at night: A dark-grey sea of emptiness stretched before us, with nothing but sand dunes and tall, sharp rocks for miles around. If we watched closely, we’d see it was crawling with life, with snakes, scorpions, and other little nightmares, but I kept my eyes on the road, and the hitchhiker – Joey – stared at the sky.

The oldest mask shop in Venice has a mask for everything, and the owner will take whatever you have to offer.

She flails her arms and legs against the straps that bind her to a wooden chair in the middle of the boutique.

When I mentioned the Kintoc spring tale of relocating entire lakes using braided ropes, a herd of elk and sub-zero temperatures, I didn’t consider that I might soon be living all of it.

A century ago, a question blossomed in our awareness that has tormented each subsequent generation’s brightest scientific minds. Since other intelligent life must be out there in a universe so vast, why haven’t they found us yet?

“My name is Calder Freeman. I am the head arcanist at GraveSecure.” He said it casually, like someone offhandedly mentioning they were a garbageman or an accountant, not an honest-to-God necromancer.

As William ambles into the kitchen to retrieve his morning coffee, he slips on a patch of melted ice. When he falls on his back, the dishwasher swings its door open and smacks him on the head.

We live in an old red schoolhouse in the forest. The forest is thick and woolly, and at night you can hear the wolves sing. It is safe here.

Brother Gregor bent close to his work, his hands trembling as he lifted the taper. Candlelight flickered in the gloom; incense sticks pierced the fetid air. A drab grey light trickled through the tiny windows, illuminating the chalk circle drawn across the floorboards.

I found it in the usual place, where I always find them. Under the rock. “Hello,” I said.  “What’s your name, little feller?” No answer. But I expected that.