Kidnapped Girls keep disappearing. First in Bridgeport, then Mystic. The third girl goes missing from a small town that rhymes with Holland. You imagine her walking through a field of tulips in wooden clogs. No wonder she couldn’t run away fast enough when The Strange Man grabbed her. Ma says there are a lot of… Read More Micro Prose: Kidnapped by Rita Ciresi

The World that Thinks the Worst At the grocery gas station, the parking lot smells like oil. The man who approaches you outside the pump looks familiar, like a lost uncle. He asks for a ride to campus. He’s older, mid-40s, looks hungry and tired. He says, “You look like a college kid. Can I… Read More Micro Prose: The World that Thinks the Worst by Shaun Turner

Return I was sitting in my car, waiting for the mall to open, when a woman I no longer wanted to be friends with knocked on my window. It was a hundred degrees out already, though it wasn’t quite ten in the morning. My car’s air conditioning was set to maximum. Plus, there was the… Read More Micro Prose: Return by Michelle Ross

Down the Stairs in Somebody Else’s Dreams You know who is behind this. Why your mother is unable to sell the house at the seaside. Why most of the prospective buyers distrust the viability of wooden houses, and why the few interested are having difficulties in obtaining a loan from the bank. You have to… Read More Micro Prose: Down the Stairs in Somebody Else’s Dreams by Sophie van Llewyn

Shelter in Place Over the rain she heard another transformer blowing in the distance and waited to see if it was theirs. It wasn’t. Not this time at least. The eye wall wasn’t near them yet. She could see on the outage map that the last slut Alex had cheated with was already in the… Read More Micro Prose: Shelter in Place by Jennifer Schomburg Kanke

Tuesday in the Park The child lagging behind picks up swan shit and drops it into a plastic baggie of Cheerios. The clock tower stopped at 9:37 a year ago. The teacher runs into a man she once loved but now can’t believe it. The fig tree is leafless except for two leaves, so it’s… Read More Micro Prose: Tuesday in the Park by Debra Di Blasi

Five Minutes Past Noon You beat me, she says, setting the basket by the door. She drapes it with her red cape to await their hunger, strides to the bed, and draws the coverlet down slowly—no snatching haste—to find his nightwear, flannel, incongruous for their purpose, boyishly blue on one so grown. Smiling at his… Read More Micro Prose: Five Minutes Past Noon by Melissa Ostrom