Micro Prose: To My Ancestors by Anishka Duggal

To My Ancestors To My Ancestors, Down the street around the cul-de-sac are the purple flowers that are shaped like snap-dragons except somehow prettier. I do not think they grew when you were here.  // In the summer I am a browning leaf. I hear my bones crack and crumble underneath the smooth white soles…

Micro Prose: Rent by Ananda Lima

Rent   Miki had told Tê the piano was haunted. Miki could hear it in the reverberation behind the low keys and the strident leftover in the highs. But Tê knew nothing about pianos. She opened its cover and exposed the keys. It grinned like a dog. She pressed down, her ten fingers stretched apart. It sounded sinister, she gave Miki that. Jason left with the rent money. They had agreed on a deposit, but the day he moved in (that strawberry blonde hair, that pointy nose, that collar neatly tucked into his cardigan), asking had seemed rude, and unnecessary. And there was the piano. Tê had never thought she would live with a piano. Now it sat underneath a pile of unpaid utility bills. Tê stuck her fingers under its jaw, leaned back and put the weight of her body into the pull. It didn’t move. Later she found out Jason had told Miki the piano belonged to his dead aunt. He claimed she had gone mad after a failed love affair with a married man. Supposedly, he had loved her, but he was related to royalty and could not face the scandal of leaving his wife. Jason’s aunt had played their song until her fingers bled and became deformed with calluses. She drank poison and kept playing until her dead torso fell…

Micro Prose: Muñeca by Valorie K. Ruiz

Muñeca Muñeca lived in a doll house with brick-painted walls thin enough to be pierced by bullets or a fist. Hands moved her from corner to chair to bed, but Muñeca never complained. At least she had the night. Nights where she lay with a stitched mouth on sticker tiles watching the Luna dance across…

Micro Prose: Parallax by Stephanie Bento

Parallax parallax, n. [pærəlæks] 1. You always drove whenever we’d take a road trip anywhere. Which was just fine with me. I’d sit beside you, staring out at the moving scenery or memorizing your profile. Sometimes I’d fall asleep to the gentle rhythm of the car treading along the asphalt and then we’d hit a…