3 Flash Fiction Short Stories


I feel generous. But mostly, I feel like I want to write. More precisely, I always feel like writing. If you haven’t read flash fiction yet, I hope you can get to know it more. It is impressive how many information a short story of only 101 words can hold. It can trigger countless thoughts. Feelings, too. I’d personally recommend reading this flash-fiction book.

While you wait for your order to come, read these ones:

#1 – Flash Splash

I can’t stand watching her eat. She always eats alone. I always assumed it was because everyone else found her way of eating as repulsive as me. I think it is because of the way she bites. Or the way she is taking a bite. That is definitely the most critical part.

It does not seem as her first bite in life and yet she never learned her mouth is way too small for that. Not too small: normal-small. But her spoonful is always too full for her food to fit in her spoon. This proofs the great optimism she has with the size of her mouth. Food seldom makes its way inside.

I notice no one sits with her because of the way she eats. It’s not just me. She spills everything on her mouth, face, eyes and other people’s eyes as well. I got some soup on my right cheek and I was seated on the bar from the other side of the street.

#2 – Flash Lights

I always choose to cross the streets with red lights. I need to feel the urgency to pass. Like there is someone for me waiting back in my house. Which is not. There is never someone but I still say hello when I cross the door. Today I chose not to cross it. I paused and felt strange. I am used to be in a rush. I paused a little more. I didn’t count the rounds of green and red lights, but when I looked, I saw the sky was dark.

#3 – Flash Buttons

Janice wore a buttoned-down shirt. Whenever Janice wore a buttoned-down shirt, Janice always checked with bony fingers if all the buttons were done and also looked down for less than a second to see if any boob was showing or not.

It never showed more than it should. Janice even believed to never have had any boobs after all.

Janice was born a man and a man remained all his life. But she still kept reaching her chest. Just to check. Am I a he or a she. She would ask. He would know because his chest remained flat.

Buttoned down, Janice had to check. Otherwise, Janice did not care.

Last time she checked someone asked and all Janice could do was turn red. Nobody understood what would happen next.