…I was eleven years old, and six of those eleven years had been spent hopelessly in love with Audrey Kerr, the “little red-haired girl” of Clark County R-1
Valentine’s Day by Andy Harper
Category: Flash
An archive of all of the flash creative nonfiction / flash CNF we’ve published over the years. Our flash category is specifically for pieces up to 800 words.
Inheritance by Allison Coffelt
When I drive back into the Missouri humidity after a few weeks away from home, I roll down my window and inhale. For a moment, I’d almost forgotten what we mean here when we say “hot.”
Second Breakfast by Kay Marie Porterfield
He smiles at the small white bag in my hand. I place it on his lap, and he clutches the top while I wheel him down the hallway to the empty nursing home cafeteria.
Here But Not Here by Jennifer S. Brown
We sit in the harbor and I stare out, regretting my departure before I’ve even left. Haifa spreads out in front of me, teasing me. I think of him, the boy I left behind…
Genotype by Sarah M. Wells
When I walk into the Hitch’n Post for a gallon of milk, the cashier behind the counter calls out, “You must be a Fugman… you Roger’s daughter?”
When All Her Hair Is Gone by Jaclyn Moyer
This Thursday when Leah comes to my farm to pick up her weekly produce box, all her hair is gone. Just like that.
Build and Build and Build Again by Ronnie K. Stephens
Here is a town that has learned from its history; a town that does not fight the mountain, does not fight the river. The mine shaft opens its mouth. Holds two bodies in its teeth until they are wet and blue and soft. Come back.
String Theory by Lisa Rivero
The ball of string fits reassuringly in my hand, smaller than a softball but just bigger than a baseball. Its perfect sphericity seems impossible against my palm, testament to the care and diligence with which it was wound.
Spring Break, Freshman Year by Julie Stotz-Ghosh
I’m alone in my parent’s house, painting the first floor bedrooms where my grandmother and parents usually sleep.
Hunger and Sleep by Matt Jones
If I want bread in this household, I have to go to my wife’s bed. I don’t mean to imply an economy of sex for grains, because that’s not the case.
