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The Open Bar

Flash Fridays: Watching Sandra Be Loved By God, by Frances Lefkowitz

My manager is waist-deep in God, which is where I want to be.

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Carry Me, by Joseph Riippi

In the Apennines, he said. In the war, our patrol. A man of our unit took a shot to the gut.

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Flash Fridays: Safety, by Mary Miller

He makes dinner while I sit at the two-top and watch. He lives in a house with three other people and a dog, a compost pile and various recycling bins. They hang their clothes on a line to dry, eat a lot of quinoa.

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 4

Once A Noted Writer of Avant-Garde Science Fiction, He Now Supports Himself Writing Restaurant Reviews For A Los Angeles Weekly, by Zak Smith

I have known chinamen. They are not all wheedling and gormless.

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 2

Us Reaction, by Blake Butler

The wires had been fed into my father’s face. We stood around and watched him take it, and the white was gray really and I was older than I’d meant to be and there was no way now to stop.

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Maybe The Mountain, by Paul Lisicky

It wasn’t easy to live in the woods, especially when we wanted the light on our heads. If only to know shoal and wave and dune.

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

Quicksilver, by David Long

One sticky afternoon, early in his marriage, Nat and his crew mates were gutting a tall-windowed lecture hall in the old chem building when, prying apart sections of lab table, he dislodged a long-hidden globule of mercury, which plopped into his bare hand.

Posted in Flash Fridays

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Chromosome T, by Amy Scharmann

My son kissed a pig at the petting zoo through the wire fence. I took him to the doctor because the pig’s nose was wet, and I’m a worrier.

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Gisant [laid out], by Gwenaelle Aubry

“The telephone rang. I think it was already nightfall. The police were waiting for us outside my father’s building. They didn’t leave me alone with him.”

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

The Old Way, by J.F. Glubka

I speak of that home we made in the mountains before the big war, when things were done different.

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

On Light, by Seth Fried

God said, Let there be light.

And the young man standing before him wanted more than anything to ask, What’s light?

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 3

The Circumstances Of My Birth, by Michael Kimball

My mother and father told me that I had been born during a violent tornado and that they drove through the windy streets to the hospital

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Life on the Moon, by Douglas Watson

Well, so there’s life on the moon. Little spiderlike things, they say—a marvelous discovery.

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 4

Phonics, by Kristen Iskandrian

I was made to determine the intentions of the letters. What were they getting at?

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Savannah Considers Her Face, by Steve Almond

Years later, after she crashed her Corvette into a tree and there was nothing but blood and a pale worm of cartilege where her nose had been, Savannah would think about Mission Viejo…

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Miracles, by Lucy Corin

WE WATCHED OUR FATHER take the jar out to the patio on the day we had been waiting for since he put the spider into it with its egg sac.

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Pedestal, by Diane Williams

He had chafing and I’m not having luck with anything I’m using. We had agreed to meet where they know me. The server put drinks down.

Posted in Flash Fridays

Comments: 1