Short Fiction – Page 7 – FEMININE COLLECTIVE

Nest

March 15, 2018September 14, 2018 Paula R. Hilton

Even in her sleep, the girl knew the wasps were back. She felt one land on her bare leg. I must wake up, I must wake up, I must wake up. Her fingertips grazed her eyelids. They refused to open. She thrashed and kicked and yelled until she willed her Read more

Today is the Day

February 25, 2018October 15, 2018 Michelle Dinnick

Today is the last day of my life. It was inevitable, and I had accepted it. In fact, I had embraced it. I was almost looking forward it. I expected – well – I hoped, that it would provide the release that I wanted. The relief that I needed. But Read more

Emotional Odyssey at the Department of Motor Vehicles

November 13, 2017October 13, 2018 Maddie Swenson

I always see at least one handsome man at the DMV. It’s never one of the workers (bitter civil servants who never give you adequate time to prepare for that little picture they take of you because it is the one joy they have left) but some other poor, unfortunate Read more

In a Laundry Room on Virgin Gorda

November 12, 2017October 13, 2018 Jennifer M. Smith

I was on Virgin Gorda, ashore at 8:00 a.m. doing my last loads of laundry before the trip south. Out of the wash and into the dryers, I was waiting to start folding. In came the cleaning lady, an older black woman, local, probably in her late sixties. “Good morning,” Read more

Checkmate

August 11, 2017October 13, 2018 Ola Majekodunmi

Johnson’s eyes darted across the room. He spotted a middle-aged blonde, a teenager wearing bright, purple lipstick and a black young man who appeared to be her boyfriend. He approached them. They were huddled together weeping and comforting one another.

Rocks and Cameras

July 23, 2017May 7, 2019 Cassandra Cervi

Then, in a wine soaked haze, I realize what the worst part about this is.We are always on guard against the men in the streets. The ones who whistle while we walk. We guard against the men at the bars, whose smiles turn to snarls upon rejection. We guard against the men online whose thumbs could spell “slut” without help from their eyes. We are almost always on guard. We almost never feel safe.

Rebecca

June 25, 2017October 12, 2018 Alicia Gatto Petersen

The landing at the top of the stairs sounded the loudest lament. Her fingers traced the expansion and contraction lines on the white-washed plaster walls as she took the first steps slowly, navigating the bowed and weakened wood on the stairs. The house and her family were accustomed to her. Read more

The March on Washington

May 3, 2017September 13, 2018 Sally Bellerose

“Call her.” Bo steers their late model Buick into the dirt driveway with one hand and flicks her Camel out the window with the other hand. “Regina worshiped President Kennedy. She won’t refuse a call today. Someone dies, you want a phone call.” It’s Bo’s week to chauffeur herself and Read more