For a $10 donation, you can order a print copy of the Hunger anthology featuring the editors’ “best of” choices from the BFF first five-year archives. Contact us at email@example.com to order your copy.
BFF is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization. The online journal is entering its sixth year of publication and donations made on our website enable us to provide publication opportunities for writers without fees.
Thank you to everyone who donated in 2019. We are deeply grateful for your support.
Donate $10 or more to Brilliant Flash Fiction and receive a free copy of our first print anthology, Hunger: The Best of Brilliant Flash Fiction, 2014-2019.
This collection is a great resource for students of flash fiction, for authors who want to submit their work, and for anyone who enjoys reading quality flash.
“Compiling the best of five years of Brilliant Flash Fiction, editors Dawn Lowe, Ed Higgins, and team have created an anthology that wows on every page. These stories demonstrate the power of flash fiction, its unique ability to move, excite, and entertain readers far beyond the constraints of its limited word count.”
– Kathy Fish, master teacher and author
“Loving Hunger: The best of Brilliant Flash Fiction, 2014-2019. I have found some real gems. Read a few to my MFA fiction workshop students.”
The FEED US Writing Contest was held June 1-September 1, 2019, in conjunction with the 2019 FoCo Book Fest in Fort Collins, Colorado, the new home of nonprofit organization Brilliant Flash Fiction. We received 376 international entries and shortlisted seven stories that were published in our first print anthology, Hunger: The Best of Brilliant Flash Fiction, 2014-2019. (Make a donation of $10 or more via the donation link on our homepage, and we’ll send you a copy of our new book as a thank you!)
Contest judge Kathy Fish selected the three prize winners and announced her decision at the anthology launch, October 19, in Fort Collins.
We would like to thank Kathy for taking time from her hectic schedule to spend two days in Fort Collins, not only judging our contest and speaking at the anthology launch, but also giving an inspirational free writing workshop that was filled to capacity with a waiting list. Continue reading “FEED US – WRITING CONTEST RESULTS”→
The gang at Brilliant Flash Fiction will launch its “best of” fifth-year anthology during the Fort Collins Book Festival on October 19, 7-9 pm at Wolverine Farms Publick House. Flash fiction writer and teacher Kathy Fish will host the evening, announcing the shortlist and top three prizewinners in the FEED US Writing Contest. Authors whose writing appears in the anthology will read their work, and copies of the anthology will be on sale. Kathy will share her wisdom on what makes a good flash piece work, so it’s an event not to be missed. Everyone is welcome—no registration needed.
Wolverine Farms Publick House is located at 316 Willow Street, Fort Collins, CO 80524. www.wolverinefarm.org
Brilliant Flash Fiction has earned a 2019 Gold Seal for Transparency from GuideStar, the world’s largest source of information on nonprofit organizations. Check out our profile at guidestar.org where you can find in-depth information about our goals, strategies, capabilities, and progress. If you want to support our cause, the donate button is on the sidebar of our website!
There’s a funny smell around Register 8 and none of the cashiers want to use it, but it’s Saturday, a couple of weeks before Christmas, and Maggie is stuck there.
Maggie is the cutest girl in Marshalls, and she worries people will think that she is the source of the smell. This is preposterous. The sight of her in the break room makes me think, unaccountably, of vanilla extract, of cakes leavening behind the little window of my grandmother’s oven.
A men’s wear price check comes over the PA, and because I’m in the pants section, I’m able to make it to the register more quickly than Adam, who is over in the dress shirts, straightening the rows. Adam has been hitting on Maggie ever since he got hired for the Christmas rush. Maggie and I are year-rounders, and the first thing I check on the schedule each week is when our times will overlap. To take a belt or a fleece jacket from her hand means the possibility of contact, of rapture. Continue reading “ISSUE 23: SEPTEMBER 2019”→
Today we are tanning near each other on bright red beach towels on the sand at Hendri’s beach. This time I don’t let my mind worry too much about Blythe’s exhibitionist traits. I’ve overcome my shyness, and we both have our bikini tops off. They’re lying next to us like useless rags.
Sometimes, there’s a language in her eyes that makes me freeze in my tracks, but my goal in this world is to become less uptight. We are thirteen, and happily, only one of us has an attractive face. The other one of us has an attractive body. My body has some potential but there is no way to know if things will turn out.
Driving around in Blythe’s brother’s SUV, we make weekend plans. We whisper in the back seat. Blythe calls him Jeeves and we hate his jokes. Sometimes he flips us off in the rearview mirror. Continue reading “ISSUE 22: JUNE 2019”→
Prompt: “Feed Us”
No Entry Fee
Word limit: 300 words, excluding title Deadline: SEPTEMBER 1, 2019
Submissions: email to firstname.lastname@example.org Awards:
$100.00 first prize
$30.00 second prize
$20.00 third prize
Judge: Kathy Fish
Grocery Shopping With My Dead Mother
By Jodi Freeman
Under the store’s florescent lights I see that this handwritten recipe for Chicken and Dumpling Soup is as fragile as dry butterfly wings. The creases are as good as rips. The page is the color of rancid butter, dotted with grease marks, marred by years of being folded into fourths and stored with 3X5 cards and Good Housekeeping clippings in the unremarkable yellow plastic box.
I snuck my mother’s recipe box out of my father’s house with the other kitchen items I took to my first on-campus apartment. Not that he wouldn’t share it with me, but he would have insisted the artifact itself remain safe at home. I didn’t trust myself to explain that I’m hollow and imagine my mother’s food will fill me. Everyday things that will hold my skin to my bones. Won’t articulate that these recipes may be the letter she never left, explaining what I needed to know about being a woman that she didn’t live to tell me. Continue reading “ISSUE 21: MARCH 2019”→