A gathering of recent speculative flash & micro fiction, each presenting a tiny-yet-powerful universe. How tiny? About one-thousand words for flash; four-hundred words for micro. The word count isn’t as important as the emotion, the adventure, the sense of wonder. Including science fiction, fantasy, horror, and the spaces in between.
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By Ariel Marken Jack in Heartlines Spec * 1000 Words
She can’t survive up here anymore, so I make my way down there every time the itch whispers deep inside the secret spaces my ears didn’t even know they had.
A haunting story of lovers who have been pulled in different directions. The depth of emotion and commitment is conveyed through lush, complex prose. This is one you might want to read a second (or third) time to fully appreciate the details.
By Ellis Nye in Small Wonders * 997 Words
After the compatibility testing to ensure I wouldn’t run, after the conditioning, after the acclimatizing dose of your venom, we lay together and made our pact.
This is super creepy. Suspense and horror build in layers, right up to the end. The narrator’s situation and emotional state are masterfully realized. Worldbuilding details add context and show the scope of the war. I admire the storytelling skill on display here. (Flash teachers: this story might be a good addition to your curriculum.)
Small Prayers for the God of Sow Thistle Hill
By Kate Francia in Flash Fiction Online * 792 Words
I am small and old, a hill worn soft by many years of rain, and the only thing buried in me is a family of rabbits.
Told by a lesser god, this is a story of sacrifice and fear, of empathy and compassion. I absolutely loved this god by the end of the story. Today’s world could probably use more of such small gods.
What Happens When a Planet Falls From the Sky?
By Danny Cherry, Jr. in Apex * 991 Words
That’s the question Damon (Earth-X) and Marissa (Earth-Y) were tasked with answering, but they were busy eye-fucking each other.
A cross-dimensional love story. I always enjoy alternate versions of Earth; in this story, the cool SF elements take a backseat to the emotional stakes. It all works together beautifully, building to a satisfying ending.
By Rod A. White in Flash Point SF * 954 Words
By fifteen, Mara kept a shoebox of weather in her closet that included hailstorms folded into frogs, fog swans, and a cumulonimbus bull that had once threatened to flood Saskatchewan.
I love the dreamy imagery and poetic language in this story. Though the progression was a little fuzzy for me, I found it easy to get lost in these words and off-kilter ideas. And now I get to ponder the fuzzy elements of the story!
By Matt Kendrick in The Citron Review * 705 Words
But still, she insists on using [speaking head] [words] like a stubborn [inferior horse].
I’m happy to see Kendrick publishing more speculative flash. In this experimental piece, folks in the future must do many things for themselves, including minor surgery at home. More efficient, right? I enjoyed the form of this story—working out the bracketed words was fun—so the dawning horror hits extra hard.
By Stanley Nesbitt in Fractured Lit * 767 Words
Ice climbed the windowpanes in delicate ribs. On the mantel, three birthday cards leaned like little doors; all of them were blank inside.
Nesbitt employs language that is both lyrical and startling. The result is an aura of dread that left me holding my breath as I raced to the end of the story. Each time I reread this, I discover some new detail. Lots to ponder (and love) here.
By Cheryl Pappas in Hex Literary * 487 Words
She is conveniently in the kitchen, slicing a large orange with one of the knives. Her limbs are exquisitely long, her cutting precise.
A masterclass in building mood through word choice. Each detail in this story takes on a sinister sheen, deepening the discomfort of the opening paragraph. Exquisite horror, in only 487 words.
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Bonus – Craft Article!
Grant Faulkner and Flash Fiction Institute
The strategic use of ambiguity is one of flash fiction’s most powerful tools.
When you leave something unexplained or only hinted at, you create what’s often called “negative space” or “resonance”—the story that lives in the gaps between what’s said.
One of my favorite aspects of flash fiction, and one I wish more speculative writers and editors would embrace! Check out the other Flash Fiction Institute offerings while you’re there.
Myna Chang 