Two Flash by Ron Riekki

The Beard, The Psychopomp It’s pretty simple—my brother’s beard is the Grim Reaper. Some people get confused when I explain this, but his beard is Death. It’s not too hard to figure out. His beard = Death. When someone dies, his beard has to go there, escort the person across the river Styx. Although it’s…

The Water by Anna Lea Jancewicz

When it started to rain, we didn’t know that it wouldn’t stop. We didn’t know that the sunflowers would bow under the weight of the water and kiss each other goodbye, that the horses would swim until they sank in surrender, that eventually even the wood of our crude boats would rot from underneath us.…

image of the face of a black and white cow

CC Made It Two Years, Wha?

Loyal CC readers, Yes, you read the above correctly. Our silly little e-mag made it two years, and we’re as shocked and pleasantly surprised as you are. We thought that, surely, our irreverent nature and plain old weirdness would not be received well, or at least not for long. We are so pleased that we were…

Today I Will Be by Liam Lambert

At closing time, when the moving stairs stop and the moving people go, it is quiet. I prefer it, though, to the opening times, when the moving people will not stop wailing and slurping their thick liquids through their thick straws. I think I remember being like that once. Nigel Store Manager will be here…

Castor or Pollux? by Dan Reiter

I was rewriting the first sentence for the eighty-seventh time when I smelled it. Hot, rancid tang. Funk of Virunga. “Olfactory hallucination,” I told myself. Deleted a word. Added another. A deep graw. Padded thunk of flesh upon wood. Blood thrilled into my legs. I turned around. The cut of the beard, the curl of…

Message in a Milk Bottle by Izabella Grace

Dad, Where are you? I’m still on our cottage roof, but the icy water keeps rising. The Yellow River has swallowed the whole lane now, and its angry roar hurts my head. The rain bites my cheeks, like horseflies, and the stink of oil, rotting things, and churned mud slicks my throat. What should I…

Two Flash by B.J. Best

Learning to Play the Silence I was gigging in a band where I played the silence. The silence is an antiquated, forgotten instrument, like the rauschpfeife or dolceola. But it was crucial for our sound, since we mostly played gigs like your boyfriend’s breaking up with you or you awake to a crash but it…

Four Flash by Daniel Levine

Perfect Funeral #1 My dead body is on the baggage carousel at the airport. Practical, ’cause the seats are already there. Also practical ’cause I’ll already have a tag. It’ll be open casket, but playful. As my body spins around the carousel the preacher holds his hand out and his voice keeps rising and falling…