Nanoism

She spreads mint jelly across a slab of multi-grain toast and wishes for pop-up children who never say no or I can’t or don’t kill me.

Kyle Hemmings lives and dies in New Jersey.

There’s a note on my door. Hurrying inside, I catch the last of my dreams climbing out a window, wearing my now useless wedding gown.

Zac Newnham (@znewnham) is a creative writing student in Melbourne, taking very small steps on a very long road.

The man wanted a dog. The woman wanted a baby.
The man did not want a baby, but really wanted a dog.
They settled for each other.

Danny Croot’s potential is only handicapped by his laziness.

The vodka tasted watery. She worried.

Bruce Harris enjoys relaxing with a Marxman.

The first time I overdosed, I saw God. Every time since, I have seen only blackness. I must find him.

Robert Holt is a writer of dark fiction.

Feasting in a well at the end of time, it wonders why this world discarded wishes into crumbling holes and abandoned them.

Matthew Bowers has learned that the quality of his writing is inversely correlated to his professional ambition.

Jesus gets thirsty too, but keep your pants zipped. That’s what Bill would say, but he never lied about Adam being his, either.

Amy McNamara does various things with words in Seattle.

Out in the fields, the old bosses dug bare-handed. Their young watchers didn’t understand their crimes and gave them water and chocolate.

Derek Dexheimer (@dex3703) gives his report at dex3703.wordpress.com. He is working on a novel.

They were woken by a scream outside. He whispered, ‘Don’t worry, it’s city life.’

In the morning, a policeman asked them, ‘Nothing at all?’

JR Deschampsneufs: always learning the art.

You were the first to want space. Muttering I just need some air, you fled, and that was The Big Bang.

Now we’re all scattered everywhere.

Dawn Corrigan has just stepped outside for a moment.