Flash Fiction International Released

Flash Fiction International (a dazzling new anthology of the best flash fiction from around the world) has finally been released!  Order a copy today!

“What is a flash fiction called in other countries? In Latin America it is a micro, in Denmark kortprosa, in Bulgaria mikro razkaz. These short shorts, usually no more than 750 words, range from linear narratives to the more unusual: stories based on mathematical forms, a paragraph-length novel, a scientific report on volcanic fireflies that proliferate in nightclubs. Flash has always—and everywhere—been a form of experiment, of possibility. A new entry in the lauded Flash and Sudden Fiction anthologies, this collection includes 86 of the most beautiful, provocative, and moving narratives by authors from six continents, including best-selling writer Etgar Keret, Zimbabwean writer Petina Gappah, Korean screenwriter Kim Young-ha, Nobel Prize winner Czeslaw Milosz, and Argentinian “Queen of the Microstory” Ana María Shua, among many others. These brilliantly chosen stories challenge readers to widen their vision and celebrate both the local and the universal.” –W. W. Norton Company


“Once my stupid mother brought me to the arbularyo who told me to sit in front of him and took out a twig from his pants pocket and placed it against his palm measuring it and he waved it inches from my face and told me to close my eyes and I did and he told me to open my eyes and I did and he placed the twig on his palm and somehow it had grown longer extending a couple of inches past the tip of his middle finger and my mother gasped and he said that indeed an engkanto had found favor in me … “

From “Engkanto,” in Flash Fiction International



“His hair was dark and soft and curled a little because it was getting long. He must have thought it made him look too pretty. He disliked anything that made him attractive. He asked her to shave it. She liked the hair. She imagined touching it with her fingers and coming away with the sweet dark smell of his scalp on her hands. He left his wool hat at her house one night and she had slept with it next to her face. She hated giving it back, and crawled around her blankets at night trying to catch his smell as it disappeared.”

From “Please Hold Me the Forgotten Way,” in Flash Fiction International



“She’d gotten the fun house mirrors at an auction and had them put up in the spare bedroom. He found them strange, even a little disturbing, and thought the buy extravagant with the kids away at college and the big tuition bucks spilling out. But she’d insisted on a ‘well-deserved splurge’ after all that straight and narrow. A side of her, new to him.”

From “Fun House,” in Flash Fiction International



“Saleh was constantly amazed by the electronic gadgets around him. They looked nothing like they had when he was first caught by the Iranians twenty years before. Now, he spent most of his days discovering them. In captivity, everything had been the same. Prisoners exchanged the same stories for the hundredth time and pretended to be hearing them afresh. Sahira smiled at him. He looked like a little boy, consumed by the task at hand. She walked to the sink to wash and drain her greens.”

From “Prisoner of War,” in Flash Fiction International

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