Flash Fiction by Joy Nash

Interview

Flash Fiction: Interview

You expect evil to reach out and slap you in the face. Not adjust its reading glasses and peer down at your resume. Roger Harmon looked so ordinary. So respectable in his gray suit and navy tie. If I hadn’t known what he was, hadn’t witnessed firsthand the devastation he’d caused, I never would have…

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Escape

Five people, plus me. Two, I know. I’m cuffed to one of the strangers. The door shuts. The clock starts. We’ve got an hour. It’s a classroom. Desks lined up, homework on the blackboard. American poets stare at me from a poster. Robert Frost knows I haven’t read his stuff. The escape door’s different from…

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Cat

creepy cat pic

They say a cat can steal a sleeping person’s breath. I don’t know about that, but I do know this: when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe, but that didn’t hold me back any. I got up and brushed my teeth. Pulled on shirt and pants. Drank a cup of…

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Run

Runner

He was working the espresso machine – his head came up when I ordered. I guess not too many customers ask for triple venti half-sweet non-fat caramel macchiatos. He glanced over. I wanted to run. The last time I’d seen him, we’d both been naked. His eyes flicked over my body before returning, expressionless, to…

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Glasses

Flash Fiction: Glasses

I need glasses. Not because of what I can’t see, but because of what I can. I duck into a one-hour place. It’s not crowded, thank God. Just a lady in blue fussing with frames, and a guy in a suit pacing the waiting area. “Colors,” I tell the optician. Gary, his name tag says.…

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