2019 FlashBack Fiction Microfiction Competition: Moon Second Place Gene Cernan Boards the Apollo 17 Lunar Module by Sutton Strother In his Boy Scout days, he had wandered off trail into thick woods and convinced himself that once he returned to…
Moon Burial
2019 FlashBack Fiction Microfiction Competition: Moon Third Place Moon Burial by Johanna Robinson Is it lonely up there, high as heaven? Did you once, alive, imagine looking down on us all, pinching the Earth between finger and thumb, as though…
Moon Rabbit Over Honshu
2019 FlashBack Fiction Microfiction Competition: Moon Highly Commended Moon Rabbit Over Honshu by Caroline Greene “There, now you can see it,” said Kazu’s grandmother guiding his pointing finger around the shadow-shape of a rabbit on the bright, white moon. The…
Three Minutes Before St Mary’s Chimed The Quarter Hour
2019 FlashBack Fiction Microfiction Competition: Moon Highly Commended Three Minutes Before St Mary’s Chimed The Quarter Hour by Marissa Hoffmann Father blamed the moon’s blink—three days past apogee—for the westerly raging-bull-wind that butted their Dundee train. Bella had been following…
Wolf Moon
Wolf Moon by Jude Higgins Peter is back from the Wyre at full moon with wolf blood on his hands. He says the wolves are denning and he caught more cubs today, their feet sticky in the pitch he laid…
The Arnolfini Funeral
The Arnolfini Funeral by Jan Kaneen Midsummer heat carries his musk up the screw of the staircase, so I know he is coming. I curtsy low averting my eyes, but I need no eyes to see him: that left wrist…
Tar i leith
Tar i leith by Ali McGrane She never went back, not really, only once for a holiday when the children were young. But there’s this. She stands in her kitchen, one hand on the door frame, one foot over the…
Nonna No Name
Nonna No Name by Rachael Dunlop ‘Tell me the story of Nonna No Name.’ ‘There was a woman with a fierce heart and three sons, all cabinet makers. The work they did, so good. They heard about a big job,…
When the Walking’s Done
When the Walking’s Done by Mary Scott The outback never ends. Frank’s seen nothing but orange and brown for hours now. Burned colours. Enough to drive a man mad. Walk, walk. Feet swelled up like melons in their rags. Stomach…
Kom-bat
Kom-bat by Paul Phillips Let’s begin again with the photograph, the one everybody knows. The senior political officer — Yeremenko? — is rising, pistol raised, rousing the men to advance. Seconds later he was dead. And you had to step into his…