Nanoism

135

Nano — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 19:00:43 +0000

Her blouse was sheer and she was bra-less. We stared and she smiled. “For once,” she said, “I want people to notice me, not my wheelchair.”

Bruce Harris enjoys relaxing with a Marxman.

Nano — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 19:00:01 +0000

My dad turned into a dinosaur on aisle five. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. I cried among the broken pickle jars as he stomped away.

Evan R. Hanson is writer and law student.

Nano — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 19:00:22 +0000

She mourned for butterflies, condemned to perch and fly again. When she grew wings, she mourned her feet, never again content to walk.

Rebecca McNulty (@rlmcnulty) is a student living in New Jersey. One day, she hopes to satisfy the childhood desire of living in a library.

Nano — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 19:00:03 +0000

Turns out Pluto’s not a planet. Everyone laughed, in third grade, when I said there were only 8 planets. I should have been an astronaut.

Alex Odom has been published by Boston Literary Magazine, Foundling Review, Six Sentences, Flashquake, and Camroc Press Review.

Nano — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 19:00:33 +0000

Every night the mail is on the table beside a covered dish. Sometimes a note: “Do you love me?” If I did, I’d have changed the locks by now.

R. Gatwood is concise.

Nano — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 19:00:06 +0000

When I said I wanted to stretch her out like a kite, she proclaimed my right cheek the lightning capital of the world.

J. Bradley is the author of Dodging Traffic (Ampersand Books, 2009). He lives at iheartfailure.net.

Nano — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 19:00:07 +0000

“It’s 2010! Where’s my flying car! Meal in a pill! Who’s suppressing the teleporter?” The Teamsters’ President shifted uneasily in his seat.

Mike Donoghue likes mice, most movie, the muppets, malbec and moist macaroons.

Nano — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 19:00:55 +0000

“Whatcha think?” Moonlight soaked the splatter cast. A cicada tittered sagely, purveying some fleck of vapid insight. I sighed, “Dead poet.”

Joseph A. W. Quintela writes. Poems. Prose. On Post-its. Walls. Envelopes. Cocktail napkins. Twitter. Anything, really. But, whatever.

Nano — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 19:00:16 +0000

Looking at the carnage around his foxhole, Sergeant Jones decided not to pray. All around lay the evidence that no one listened.

Steven Saus injects people with radioactive material as “real” job, but for the forces of good.

Nano — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 19:00:04 +0000

Because he loved her, he packed his bags. He wrote her a good check and a note in dry erase. He left clues but knew she wouldn’t come.

Teresa Houle (@teresahoule) wants you to read her.