pages Micro-Fiction Archives

Ruined for All Other Men

Issue No. 161 ~ October, 2010

While she prayed, Christa heard organ music - the sound of a hundred unrelated sounds forcibly coupled together. Behind shut eyelids she registered white blurry hums from the altar candles.

Listening to the Rear-View Mirror

Issue No. 159 ~ August, 2010

On a few late afternoons, she walks to where the earth ends, while her sister from the village that Safiyyah continues to feel taut in her bones watches over the boys, steams their rice [...]

The All of It

Issue No. 159 ~ August, 2010

“Just get rid of it,” she said. “All of it. Empty is always better.  Better than this anyway.” This realtor gave Nora the number for Tillet’s Auction House. This realtor always had a pen. The number appeared in loops on the front of yet another …

Radio, Active Decay

Issue No. 158 ~ July, 2010

The cherries of our cigarettes pulse like exit signs outside the front door, drive away flies.

Lunch on the Grass

Issue No. 158 ~ July, 2010

They won’t ask realistic questions because they will be too shocked with style to fixate on content.


Issue No. 158 ~ July, 2010

She took the gnawed white pencil with the heart-shaped eraser and marked the wall calendar for that day with a V, pouting. “You were very mean to me today.” Her: in fur collar and short hair with plummy lower lip stuck out like that actress …

Levels Have Changed

Issue No. 155 ~ April, 2010

There is something you must know my dearest cousin Ego. These days I am not only a big idol, but I think and go for stuff that moves me beyond boundaries. Up I have gone till I soar like the pound sterling against the naira.

The Blood of Raisins

Issue No. 155 ~ April, 2010

I was prepping the bull for a ride by looping a belt around its testicles when Walter from the Mission put a call into Mom, said her brother Richard was in trouble. I wash my hands. I use more soap. We drive through the night.

North of Center

Issue No. 152 ~ January, 2010

We woke to her bedroom door bending with the force of his boot. He drank booze, Paulette said. The word puddled out of her lips and sounded both grown up and baby at the same time. The cow says moo. The Daddy says booze. He kicked the door harder,...

Talking Houses

Issue No. 149 ~ October, 2009

"When I'm in a conspiracy theory mood I argue ducts. I deconstruct the entire house. I blame landlords, realtors, architects, HVAC people, town planners, and mice. There is no telling how high up this thing goes. These are long days."