fiction

Small waves lap onto the shore.

The last thing he knew was the feeling of his tongue falling heavy under a mouth full of sand.

Francis kicked the shiny pebble down the dirt track, one hand lazily stuffed in his hoodie pocket and the other wrapped around a moisture-stained...

Dear Leighton, It’s been so long since I’ve written to you. As the air turns cold and less autumn leaves are underfoot, my mind drifts to those...

That night, I stare into the light of my phone, half-asleep as I read my little sister’s message. Sylvia writes, Are you coming home over reading...

A single interaction becomes a possible lifeline in this flash fiction piece.