Tag Archives: Drought

Our 2018 Best of the Net Nominees Are…

Casting the Net – Suzanne Valodon, 1914

We have submitted our nominations for possible inclusion in the 2018 Best of the Net anthology, which honors literary work that originally appeared on the internet between 7/1/2017 & 6/30/2018, and they are:

“DROUGHT” flash  prose  by  Kim  Coleman  Foote ( from  FLAPPERHOUSE #15 – Fall  2017)

“I  ASK  the  NETHERWORLD  if  LIZZIE  BORDEN  DID  it  &  THIS  is  WHAT  it  SAYS”  – poetry  by  Kailey  Tedesco from FLAPPERHOUSE #16 – Winter 2018 )

“SNAPSHOT  from  the  REVOLUTION”short  fiction  by  Perry Lopez ( from FLAPPERHOUSE #18 – Summer 2018 )

Congratulations, best of luck, and thanks to Kim, Kailey, and Perry forever & back for contributing your amazing work to our weird little zine!
Advertisements

Our Nominations for The Best Small Fictions 2018 Are…

 

Small Worlds – Wassily Kandinsky, 1922

The Best Small Fictions honors fiction of 6 to 1,000 words published in a calendar year. As we are eligible to nominate up to 5 pieces for inclusion in their 2018 anthology, we have selected:

“Picnic” by A. E. Weisgerber (560 words), from our Spring 2017 issue.

“Mission Concept” by Peter H.Z. Hsu (716 words), from our Summer 2017 issue.

“Left Behind” by Kaj Tanaka (512 words), from our Summer 2017 issue.

“Drought” by Kim Coleman Foote (390 words), from our Fall 2017 issue.

and “X-Ray” by Rosie Adams (474 words), from our Winter 2018 issue.

Best of luck to all our nominees, and thanks as ever for contributing your extraordinary small fictions to our weird little zine!

Our Most-Viewed Pieces of 2017 Were…

Eyes – Nuri Iyem, 1979

Before we set our sights completely on 2018, let’s look at the pieces from 2017 that attracted the most eyeballs to our site…

10. “When I Die Someone Just Fuck My Body Please,” Ian Kappos’ punker-than-hell poem from our Summer 2017 issue.

9. “Picnic” A. E. Weisgerber’s potent & evocative flash fiction which served as the opening piece of our killer & cinematic Spring 2017 issue.

8. “Drought,” Kim Coleman Foote’s eerily surreal & fable-like flash prose which kicked off our Fall 2017 issue.

7. “Summer Water,” one of two witty & intoxicating poems by Sarah Bridgins in our Summer 2017 issue.

6. “Mission Concept,” Pete H.Z. Hsu’s trippy & unearthly (and Best of the Net-nominated) flash fiction that launched our Summer 2017 issue.

5. “Caulking the Wagon,” Devin Kelly’s poetic meditation on suffering & classic computer games, from our Summer 2017 issue.

4. “Love Song of a Femme Fatale on Scholarship,” Maria Pinto’s frisky & infatuating flash fiction from our Winter 2017 issue.

3. “Torture Game”, Ryan Bradford’s fiendish short fiction about a dark night at the drive-in, from our Spring 2017 issue.

2. “Left Behind,” Kaj Tanaka’s brief yet profoundly haunting flash fiction, and the grand finale of our Summer 2017 issue.

1. “The Cake,” Jonathan Wlodarski’s deliciously disturbing (and Pushcart Prize-nominated) short fiction from our Winter 2017 issue.

“Drought” – Flash Prose by Kim Coleman Foote

Spirit of the drought – Arthur Streeton, 1895

Our Fall 2017 issue, FLAPPERHOUSE #15, won’t fly until Friday, 9/22, but today we’re offering a taste of all the menacing weirdness we have in store with “Drought,” an eerily surreal & fable-like work of flash prose by Kim Coleman Foote.

(Print copies of FLAPPERHOUSE #15 are available on Amazon for $6US, and digital PDF copies are currently available for via PayPal for just $3US!)

{ X }

for Cynthia Graae

THIS YEAR, BEFORE NIGHT RUSHES IN, WE AWAIT THE RIGHT MOMENT. When sky turns cyan and a breeze chants in the air, against our ears. When sky turns grey, erasing sun rays and hinting at rain, which hasn’t appeared in months.

Everyone in the area tenses upon their chairs, hoping to be agents in a new rite, begging Mother Nature to grant us those liquid grains from her atmosphere. We cant and cry, hoping she’ll hear us, when a gay gent strolls amongst us, stroking the cat on his shoulder. He lifts his thin legs like a crane then breaks into a canter. Some gather their young in fright. He tears off his hat, exposing a halo of hair, rants about how in this age, it is our hate that keeps Her from cooperating.

When an old hag jumps from her seat, we grit our teeth. She rages at the man, spittle staining her chin like tinea, her breath stinking of gin. She claims that the gates of the moon shall open to anyone who hasn’t tired of life’s mysteries.

The man grins the whole time. The cat has changed to a hare eating hay (some say it never was a pet but a rat disguised in rags).

Aside: don’t attempt to tag this as fiction; reality, in actuality, is fraught with much more strangeness.

Continue reading “Drought” – Flash Prose by Kim Coleman Foote