by Stefan Kiesbye

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short fiction

She remembered running up to her room, her mother’s voice a whip.

by Anniqua Rana

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short fiction

We, the flies, were witness three times.

by Catherine Day

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short fiction

I turned 108 years old yesterday, and as much as I would have liked to spend the day in quiet contemplation of the big questions of the universe, they insisted on throwing another party for me.