Latest Pulp Modern Flash Stories

TimeLine Layout

September, 2020

  • 14 September

    DEATH COMES TO UNCLE BOB by David Rachels

      In the woods next to the 17thfairway, I found my father standing over Uncle Bob with a bloody wedge in his hands. My father said, “This isn’t what it looks like.” I said, “You mean Uncle Bob isn’t dead?” The 17th hole had begun normally: Uncle Bob had driven …

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  • 8 September


      Recently, my wedding to my fiancé Felix was cancelled, and I’ve been wondering if I should give back the ring. It’s an 18K White Gold Four-Prong Petite Comfort Fit Engagement Ring set with a 0.75 carat, round, D color, VS1 clarity, ideal cut diamond. I mean, it isn’t the …

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August, 2020

  • 31 August

    I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU by Michael Bracken

      Carl held his wife’s hand and listened until her last breath escaped from between her lips and the machine monitoring her heartbeat registered nothing. She had signed a Do Not Resuscitate order, and he knew no one would be coming. “Why?” he demanded of the universe. Amy had been …

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  • 24 August

    BOTTOM’S UP by Gabriel Hart

      In pursuit of excitement, not all nights out on the town are going hit that fever pitch you’re looking for. In fact, some end just like they begin, depending on your company. Some people just live on a loop until the circle finally cracks for them. “Bottom’s up!” hollered …

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  • 17 August

    TRUCE by Ara Hone

      I stared at the yellowed photo, a before shot. In it, we were coordinated. Us boys wore blue shirts, and the gals wore green. Ma held me against her belly, and the rest of our clan, including Pa, tangled around her like puppies. I supposed one objective of the …

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  • 10 August

    RECALIBRATION by Tom Leins

      2051 Harlan found us in an abandoned foodbank. My sallow reflection looked distorted in his cracked visor. My eyeballs looked piss-yellow, my beard resembled long-dead roadkill. “Are you going to kill us, Mister?” I asked. He crouched in front of me, his ventilator groaning, his expression inscrutable. “No, son.” …

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  • 3 August

    MEMORIES OF FIRE by C.W. Blackwell

      Gina expected a corpse, but the man she found in the trailer was only half-dead. Fresh blood on the mattress. Hair matted to the sweat-damp pillow. Three days ago, Marco sat at death’s door. Now it looked like death had chewed him up and spit him out again. “I …

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