Micro Prose: Paint by Colin Williams

He’s done the final wall, the highest one, in OPB. The soft sable of the brush he uses gleams brown above the paint’s surface like his wife’s hair above the bathwater. She’ll be discharged from the hospital soon, they’ve told him, maybe as soon as next week

Micro Prose: Weird as the wind by Bryan D. Price

Photo courtesy of unsplash.com WEIRD AS THE WIND I put every organic thing in that basket put parrot feathers (there are three) in a pot to bringback the dead they move with artificial wind I am cold as black wool dyed in that inkpot Iwent on a tangent saying things I should not have said—who...

Micro Prose: We Must Fight Gnosticism At All Costs by M. L. Martinson

Photo courtesy of unsplash.com WE MUST FIGHT GNOSTICISM AT ALL COSTS So Jesus is at Starbucks getting a decaf latte when he notices Atlas over there sporting sweet globe tattoos on his bulging biceps—one featuring northern latitudes, the other southern. At the table with Atlas is Tiamat, a badass dragon running down her forearm. That...

Micro Prose: Rolling Back Stones by Amanda Gaines

Photo courtesy of unsplash.com ROLLING BACK STONES You disappear just like that—blackbirds in the elm trees. It was your idea, after all, to get into shape, to start becoming the version of yourself you use in daydreams. We sisters navigate our unpaved road: erosion and dirt in the dark, spitting out bugs that flit into...

Micro Prose: Lessons in Intimacy by Afton Montgomery

"In the dark: I catch her hand on the windowlip of one of the panes in my body..."

Micro Prose: How I Discovered the World is Flat by Roger D’Agostin

"I didn’t have a mask or gloves.  Two old Italian women, in thick black shoes, inched in my direction.  I moved back.  That’s when I slipped...."

Micro Prose: Costumes for a Different Woman by Candice Kelsey

Costumes for a Different Woman "The dresses in my closet are costumes for a different woman, though I hide myself in their silky textures. The man asleep in my bed knows me best in the dark." Linda Pastan  He grows smaller. Somehow he makes this old house feel draftier, like we live in a bank...

Micro Prose: At Auction by Sarah Priscus

At Auction Mrs. Breton’s third-grade class dealt in teeth. Mostly incisors, but canines were coveted most. No one took a shine to molars except Milly. She said they were smoothest, like plaque-covered pearls. The teeth were kept in pencil cases, swapped in calculated exchanges, polished with eyeglasses cloths, and used to practice subtraction. Some kids...

Micro Prose: Limits of the Flesh by Damien Roos

Limits of the Flesh  On fine afternoons, where the sun slips just right through the trees, I imagine being  smashed beneath some dense, massive object. It’s happened, you know. Not to me yet, but to others: in a warehouse where the lift fork slipped, a dockyard where the pulley gave. I make fourteen dollars an hour saying,...

Micro Prose: Overturned by Jenn Blair

Overturned I blame the gallows. I’d wanted to see them ever since I saw that movie and figured it would make a good stop on the drive from Atlanta to Oklahoma City. I was going home for Thanksgiving but also for my Aunt’s funeral—an imperious woman who crocheted tiny pink and blue hats for preemies...