Short Fiction Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction

House for Sale

Christiane Tu.

"The baseboards can always be painted over."The sentence played over and over again in Margaret's head. The real estate agent had muttered it innocently under her breath, but it stuck with he ... [+]

Short Fiction

Room 414

Élodie To.

How did they first meet? By the revolving door, on the beach side. It was like a scene in a Lelouch film. Being a person who hums shoobedoobedoo every time I walk into our dear old hotel, I was ... [+]

Short Fiction

Grandma

Muriel Me.

The wind was blowing in gusts, buffeting the car, which swerved dangerously towards the precipice. Down below, the waves broke with deafening noise on the rocks. It was magnificent but terrifying. I ... [+]

Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction

Store of Ashes

James Wo.

Old Shanghai was dying, losing between three and six streets a day. The modern city was strangling it among its many skyscrapers. Soon, in a few years at most, it will have disappeared. Yet, through ... [+]

Short Fiction
Short Fiction

Krab

Elvyre Fr.

I don't want to boast, but I've just pulled off a real masterpiece. At the age of seventy-five, I have become the unrivaled outrageous old lady of Moussy-lès-Limas. I live in this peaceful little ... [+]

Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction

The Stalag Doll

Sergine Da.

I am a doll. I was born sixty years ago at Görlitz in Germany, in a hut in Stalag VIII-A. I am the one for whom a Belgian prisoner of war, number 15825, opened his clenched fists and to whom he ... [+]

Short Fiction
Short Fiction
Short Fiction

Goodbye Paul!

Olivier Ca.

It was November. It was cold; below the seasonal average, the weather forecast said. The wind swept the dead leaves along in gusts. The sky was a cold, clear blue. Really not the weather to be put ... [+]