Nanoism

You asked me to edit your memoir. It was much more satisfying after I replaced her name with mine.

Cheryl Chancellor lives on the other side of the looking-glass.

Subject line: I DON’T LIKE YOUR TONE.
Message: blank.

Eric Hawthorn has found that writing his own bio is the only time he can get away with referring to himself in the third person.

I wonder if she remembers us. But he gave her a new kitten and a new name when he carried her away into another future, the one without us.

Linda Palund: a flash fiction artiste and morbid soul living on two continents.

Duke was drunk on rubbing alcohol and three days no sleep. “Where’s the mutt?” He would yell, looking for me. “Where is the white devil?”

Ben Parker Karris is a young writer currently living in the American Southwest.

She could only get herself 302ed so often before people thought she just craved attention and hospital beds. She decided to try harder.

Eric Boyd (@EricBoydtweets) writes for a lot of different things. He was recently nominated for the Pushcart Prize.

Driving, I scan the sleepy city for a diner I’ve never been to. The radio seems to sing, “better versions of you are being born right now.”

Eddy Habib writes words and sells beer in Worcester, MA. He recently caught all the pokemon.

Poured from a dusty bottle of Bordeaux: wine she’d been saving for a special moment.

Dan Reiter thinks half a true story is better than

The storm closed the courthouse. But the bookstore was a more magical place anyway. We do, they said. And the snow melted on the floor.

Patricia Doiron finds that every story worth telling can be told in 140 characters or less—unlike Anna Karenina.

It was the professor, in the ballroom, with the revolver. But I needed evidence.

This is Ida Pohl’s…third attempt? Fourth?

He still waits for an hour every month, never realizing her goodbye got lost in translation. Maybe, it’s not true what they say about dogs.

Elin (@elinmatilda_) wants to live in an old castle.