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Flashion Week
Weekly flash fiction stories across a range of genres.
Photo by Gage Walker on Unsplash

I woke up in a haze of navy blue with a large, ugly fish gaping stupidly at me. But the strangest part was that nothing hurt. The familiar itch to light up, to get high, to do anything to immediately escape reality was…missing. Did everyone wake up each day with so little direction, so little motivation?

More fish swim past. It’s like being in an aquarium. I’m not breathing. Frowning, I finally rise to my feet, and look around. An unnecessary breath catches in my throat.

I’m staring at myself.

It’s like having an out of body experience. There I…


A week where everything changed.

Photo by Charles Deluvio on Unsplash

Wednesday.

Summer is coming, I have a great boyfriend, and a few final exams are all that stands between me and a wild shared adventure. There are shadows, but I’m used to them, lurking close by. Terminally ill parents, my first full time job was as a nurse. It’s fine.

Thursday.

Parents at hospital appointments, I’m at school. Josh picks me up, and takes me home. Everyone always loved our rural retreat. We enter to sounds of agony. This is not new. I automatically remove Josh to hide a father’s pain. He died while I climbed trees outside with Josh.

Friday.

I decline…


Photo by Gabor Monori on Unsplash

I was laying here thinking, ‘this is how Elvis died’. Then I thought, ‘nah, that’s stupid’. His bathroom was probably all pinks and golds. He liked pink. He had that pink Cadillac, and everyone knew it was his pride and joy. Not that I can blame him, of course. Gold compliments pink well, and it’s gaudy Elvis was gaudy in the end. I bet it looked like Versailles in there — decadent and dripping with wealth. This bathroom looks like shit. There’s black grime between the cheap, crooked tiles, and I don’t know that the toilet has ever been cleaned…


ESA/Hubble, M. Kornmesser

Cassandra waded through her malaise to the replicator. She ordered a chai latte, refusing to admit that this would be the most interesting thing she’d experience today. And the next day, and the day after, and the day after…

Mug in her thin hands, she shuffled over to the wall to wall glass windows. Outside, a white hot, tiny star was tethered to a spiral of plasma by its own life force, circling the drain and bleeding into an unknown.

Staring stoically into the abyss, she sipped her latte. There was no soundtrack for this spectacle, save the undercurrent hum…


Interstellar mixology is no laughing matter.

Photo by Steve Harvey on Unsplash

I take a deep breath and adjust my beard. It’s a bad look for me. Another deep breath. Keep breathing. It’s my bartending apprentice night in the Old Earth Speakeasy, and I’m human. Patrons are either humans remembering a scorched planet they never knew or non-terrestrial species with a fetish. Should be easy. I pull out the scrunchie holding my top-knot and restyle it. Tonight’s theme is 2010s, and I look the part. Beard, man-bun, flannel shirt, fake tattoos, and a Google Glass.

On the shuttle over I’m reciting recipes under my breath, stopping when the bar comes into view…


A clink of ceramic on glass marked the arrival of two large ornate bowls on the counter by the door. All of Debra’s loyal customers knew the drill: phone in one bowl, cash payment in the other. They would arrive soon. She was ready.

The small, intimate studio featured soothing murals with intricate symbols, and was lit by hundreds of candles. There were no electronics allowed inside the practice room, and no electricity in the building. It interfered with the energy of the environment and the practitioners. Yoga mats were laid out in staggered rows, each with a neatly folded…

Flashion Week

Weekly flash fiction stories across a range of genres.

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