Timeline: FlashBack’s Eighth Season

We’re preparing for our annual summer break, but first, here is our seasonal look back at what we’ve published this spring.  In case you’ve missed any of these wonderful pieces, here are the links.  And, as always, you can find our full chronological archive over at our Timeline.

We’re still open for submissions until Wednesday, 15 July and will continue to work behind the scenes until we’ve made it through our submission queue, so there’s still time to send us something for the winter 2020/2021 season.  We’d love to read your work!

Huge thanks and best wishes to all our authors and readers around the globe; it has been a pleasure and honour to share these pieces during these strange times.

We’ll be back with you in the autumn, but in the meantime, stay safe and well.

Season VIII

My instrument is angular yet perfectly rounded, with interruptions. Its rough edges are worn smooth through years of repetitions. Diners at their long tables watch the instrument, not me.

  • Late seventeenth century:Infanta‘ by Carolyn Oliver

Infanta, you dance as a gull sways on a salt breeze, as a fan swings closed between jewelled fingers, as a whisper stalls in a hot room. Eyes tally your subtle steps, the weight and cost of the silk heaped about your narrow hips. All dazzle-daunted, except the little maid, the one you left rubbing her jaw in your new apartments.

Ma says not to go to Arthur’s Seat. “The faeries will snatch ye—they come for bairns.”

  • Nineteenth century:This House‘ by by Ahmad Adedimeji Amobi

I mustn’t take a step further. This house hoards the memories that shred before me.

You are being photographed with a stolen camera. You are pretending to smoke a cigar, you are wearing your best dress, you are holding a shotgun. You are going to be famous. You are going to be hunted. You are going to have time to scream before you die.

It was lunch time in Madhupur. Taramon, a motherless farmer’s daughter of 24, was just getting ready to sit down with her four siblings for lunch. Their father had left for the field early in the morning. The farmer didn’t join them for lunch.

  • 17 November 1973:rEVOLt‘ by Mileva Anastasiadou

She’d never forget that day, that glorious day of protest, a joyful day at first, as joyful days are when change is around the corner. She’d never forget his hand in hers, the warmth of his words when he told her, they can’t beat us, we have the power, and she believed him for they were among the people, they were down in the streets, fighting together, fighting oppression.

A white male and an Asian female left 222 Club shortly before 11 PM when three African American males in black “hoodie” sweatshirts allegedly pushed them to the ground and escaped with two iPhones (one silver and one pink) as well as one red leather Prada-brand purse.

Image of marine sandglass from The new American practical navigator, by Nathaniel Bowditch and Jonathan Ingersoll Bowditch: New York : E. & G.W. Blunt, 1859, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.