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Welcome to issue 8. Two years gone. I’d like to say ‘in a flash,’ but it’s been a long couple of years (and over a hundred flashes). Our s...

by Clara Ray Rusinek Klein Mama clamps her hand over my eyes, fingers tight. “Nein.” Papa yanks her away. “He needs to see.” I press m...

by Voima Oy Here on this world of dust, I wear a piece of green. Canadian jade from Vancouver, where the Pacific crashes against the cliff...

by Jonathan Hawk She has to be the best model I've ever worked with. Completely motionless and silent for hours. My gaze lingers on ...

by John Xero Old fence post, rusted, swung with thick gloves, connecting hard with hooded head. Stranger folding fast, going down, heavy. ...

by William Eckman Welcome to Last Ditch Station. That display? Stupid thing’s said “ALL CONDITIONS: RED” since I got here. The smell? Cook...

by Denny E. Marshall Professor Mensa has just completed his time machine. The machine is chrome coloured, cylindrical shape, and large eno...

by Julia Reynolds Fate weaves our lives from threads of grey and brown. A sparkle of blue or silver shines here and there for the lucky fe...

by Shenoa Carroll-Bradd My husband's beard is blue. The stain on the key... is not. “Anything you like,” he'd said before leavin...

by Grace Black Star-crossed lovers die and fleeting moments burn like bricks. Yet, we do this thing exchanging vows, walking aisles of ash...

by Cindy Vaskova Eric ambles down an uneven pimento coloured cobblestone, finding the beach. Languid sea’s bubbling foam spreads out. “Str...

by Daniel Gooding My pal Eddie took me out on his boat; said we were going shark fishing. As he busied himself in the cabin, I looked ar...

by Sean Sam The warning light flashed red again. Samantha sighed and pulled over, getting out of the dirty white Ford Focus, glancing alon...

by Danielle Bordelon She wore the colour of lust and anger. She spoke gently into my mind, her lips still. “You are the one that has bee...

by Shannon Bell Those lips, stained red with the blood that flows beneath, stained darker with the blood that flows above. Those lips, sha...

by John Xero I used to imagine a fat little demon squatting astride his bald head, one pustulous arse cheek resting on each shoulder, shor...