Flash Fiction - Dark Harbor Magazine

A Handful of Flies

Marty flinched under his covers when the door slammed out in the living room, but that slamming door, followed by the muffled cries of his mom, meant that it was over. The curse words, the yelling, the breaking of things, it was over.

His Skin

Emerson Bell

I really liked his grave. The cemetery overlooked a deep lake where birds flew all around. The little grove around the church was also perfect. It wasn't too thick, too wild, too sparse, or manmade.

If I Were a Blackbird

Kira Córdova

The feathers started as the coarse black hairs that grew out of the mole between my human shoulder blades.

The Mouth inside the Pillow

Tom Busillo

The mouth jutting out of the pillow had the teeth of a piranha, snapping its jaws, dripping thick, gooey yellow saliva, and making tiny squeaks that echoed like distant screams.

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Jimmy Blakemore

Jake Norton was tired of hearing everyone’s talk about Santa Claus. At twelve, he was pretty sure he’d outgrown the chimney stories—or so he told his parents.

Trunk Story

Ken Foxe

A plastic wheelie bin had just gone skittering down the road when Colly Glennon heard his son roaring.

Narcissus the Narcissist

Jimmy Blakemore

“Ethan, are you ready yet?” Jessica’s voice drifted down the hall, sharp, like the clack-clack-clack of her heels against the hardwood floor. Impatient, as usual. “We’re going to be late.”

Reekers

Jimmy Blakemore

So I prophesied as I was commanded; and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and suddenly a rattling; and the bones came together, bone to bone. Indeed, as I looked, the sinews and the flesh came upon them, and the skin covered them over; but there was no breath in them. — Ezekiel 37:7-8

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