The Trail
The pigeons descended almost immediately on the bit of sausage on the ground. Marko looked down at them; he looked at the trail of tomato sauce running down his trouser
Menu
Occasionally, I set myself a challenge to write a flash fiction story every week. I have great intentions and start off well, but… Well, I always fail.
Anyway, below is the archive of the flash fiction pieces I did manage to write.
My personal favourites are:
But they’re all fun silly stories – occasionally dark – that will take you less than 4 minutes to read. Enjoy!
The pigeons descended almost immediately on the bit of sausage on the ground. Marko looked down at them; he looked at the trail of tomato sauce running down his trouser
The Time Traveller glanced at the watch on his left wrist as he hurried to the indicator boards. He looked up at the panel and cursed; he needn’t have rushed.
When Bogdan reads the classifieds, he sucks air in loudly through his teeth. Occasionally, when he finds something interesting, he’ll make farty noises with his lips. Ana, who has sat
Wilson takes his first breath on a Tuesday and suffers existential jet lag for the next 12 years. When his soul catches up with his body, he begins to wonder
The stone cat sits outside the veterinary sciences building, a serious sandstone sentinel guarding the entry. Every student rubs its nose as they walk past. They have been doing it
I met up with Jed down at the Swinging Abbey. He was already a beer ahead and immediately started waxing lyrical before I’d even sat down. “I’ve been thinking about
There was nothing Elly liked better than fairy lights, and everyone knew it. As a result she had quite the collection: white lights, multicoloured lights, umbrellas, pink elephants, hearts, horses,
Having never done this before, he wondered what to do. Obviously, he received his guests with respect. “Thank you for coming. Lovely to see you,” he said, to people he
It had been snowing all morning and, with trepidation and excitement, she put on her new boots, duck-down jacket, wool gloves, old brown scarf and beanie and ventured out into
The clocks are out of sync. He can hear the double ticking in the other room, like a baby’s heartbeat. He stares up at the ceiling, his hands tucked behind
Nat Newman is an award-winning writer of short stories, content, podcasts, feature articles, drunk text messages and, soon, a novella.
Nat Newman is an award-winning writer of short stories, content, podcasts, feature articles, ghost-written books, drunk text messages and, soon, a novella. Born and raised in Australia, she now calls the universe her home.
© 2020 All rights reserved Natnewman
