She selected a single star on which to direct her attention. We are one light, she told herself.

By Promiti Islam
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Fiction

She selected a single star on which to direct her attention. We are one light, she told herself.

Fiction

In Chinese, filial piety is a homophone for peel.

Fiction

So do I tell her the name Cy sighed last night? Do I say how it landed on me like dew, like shroud?

Fiction

In that moment who was to say what belonged to me—Munir’s mouth, my luminous skin color, a setting sun, the shady place we were in, I could never tell anyone.

Fiction

Her grandma had once asked her how you could tell the difference between something that had disappeared and something that had escaped

Fiction

Like if we shared any of the same interests I could tell him how I recently learned that Kubrick in his younger days used to wander around New York City and play chess in parks

Fiction

She, like the others, could only slightly feel the edge of some thoughts, and some memories. It was better that way, they all agreed.

Fiction

Astrological insights from our inaugural twelve flash stories

Fiction

Everybody thinks you become someone different when you’re someplace different, but it’s not true, you come back and you turn the same again.

Fiction

The white Liang mansion was melting viscously into the white mist, leaving only the greenish gleam of the lamplight shining through square after square of the green windowpanes, like ice cubes in peppermint schnapps.

Fiction

I never understood the concept of wearing an outfit only once, by which I mean I’ve never thought about my own wedding.

Fiction

That sweet aroma—one so acquainted with Jabril—was hanging brightly like a piece of the moon within this incantation.

Fiction

We learned about our Other Brother on a summer afternoon.

Fiction

Your mother always told you stories as she oiled your hair: of her youth, legends and fables, immigration, your father’s business ventures.

Fiction

Sudah hampir sepuluh tahun Ambe terbaring di sumbung | Ambe has been lying on top of the casket for almost ten years now

Fiction

“Scared, Starlight?” my big brother said smiling at me as we’d strapped our harnesses into place. “Don’t be.”

Fiction

It is 10:40 a.m., I stare up at the ceiling, a collection of imprints. I am trying to count how many animals I can see sheeted above my head in all four corners.

Fiction

Hot outside, cold inside. Hopeful on the outside, forlorn on the inside. Or was it the other way around?

Fiction

One day the woman wakes up and she can’t say exactly what it is that’s changed, only that she knows it all has.

Fiction

They thought me the oddity, though they were the ones depriving themselves of air. I watched them with the same curiosity that they watched me. How? And why?

Fiction

She selected a single star on which to direct her attention. We are one light, she told herself.

Fiction

I never understood the concept of wearing an outfit only once, by which I mean I’ve never thought about my own wedding.

Fiction

In Chinese, filial piety is a homophone for peel.

Fiction

That sweet aroma—one so acquainted with Jabril—was hanging brightly like a piece of the moon within this incantation.

Fiction

So do I tell her the name Cy sighed last night? Do I say how it landed on me like dew, like shroud?

Fiction

We learned about our Other Brother on a summer afternoon.

Fiction

In that moment who was to say what belonged to me—Munir’s mouth, my luminous skin color, a setting sun, the shady place we were in, I could never tell anyone.

Fiction

Your mother always told you stories as she oiled your hair: of her youth, legends and fables, immigration, your father’s business ventures.

Fiction

Her grandma had once asked her how you could tell the difference between something that had disappeared and something that had escaped

Fiction

Sudah hampir sepuluh tahun Ambe terbaring di sumbung | Ambe has been lying on top of the casket for almost ten years now

Fiction

Like if we shared any of the same interests I could tell him how I recently learned that Kubrick in his younger days used to wander around New York City and play chess in parks

Fiction

“Scared, Starlight?” my big brother said smiling at me as we’d strapped our harnesses into place. “Don’t be.”

Fiction

She, like the others, could only slightly feel the edge of some thoughts, and some memories. It was better that way, they all agreed.

Fiction

It is 10:40 a.m., I stare up at the ceiling, a collection of imprints. I am trying to count how many animals I can see sheeted above my head in all four corners.

Fiction

Astrological insights from our inaugural twelve flash stories

Fiction

Hot outside, cold inside. Hopeful on the outside, forlorn on the inside. Or was it the other way around?

Fiction

Everybody thinks you become someone different when you’re someplace different, but it’s not true, you come back and you turn the same again.

Fiction

One day the woman wakes up and she can’t say exactly what it is that’s changed, only that she knows it all has.

Fiction

The white Liang mansion was melting viscously into the white mist, leaving only the greenish gleam of the lamplight shining through square after square of the green windowpanes, like ice cubes in peppermint schnapps.

Fiction

They thought me the oddity, though they were the ones depriving themselves of air. I watched them with the same curiosity that they watched me. How? And why?