When they talk, the five sisters, their words strangle each other, pulling and plucking at the threads of truth.

By Ashanya Lingam
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Fiction

When they talk, the five sisters, their words strangle each other, pulling and plucking at the threads of truth.

Fiction

When the epiphyllum buds reached peak bloom, petals everywhere began to fall. They began to fall like rain.

Fiction

I feel satisfied, triumphant, knowing I have loved the original donut well, though maybe it was only its glaze that I recognized.

Fiction

I don’t know what to tell you except that children are cruel and her emails were hilarious.

Fiction

She selected a single star on which to direct her attention. We are one light, she told herself.

Fiction

In Chinese, filial piety is a homophone for peel.

Fiction

So do I tell her the name Cy sighed last night? Do I say how it landed on me like dew, like shroud?

Fiction

In that moment who was to say what belonged to me—Munir’s mouth, my luminous skin color, a setting sun, the shady place we were in, I could never tell anyone.

Fiction

Her grandma had once asked her how you could tell the difference between something that had disappeared and something that had escaped

Fiction

Like if we shared any of the same interests I could tell him how I recently learned that Kubrick in his younger days used to wander around New York City and play chess in parks

Fiction

The concrete tetrapods tempered the waves, and the space between them made room for love between boys.

Fiction

Astrological insights from our twelve flash stories

Fiction

The sea’s sunlit hues, the model-like beach goers that crowd the snack bar, the fruit from the south that tastes of the earth—they are totally unremarkable to her.

Fiction

Years later, to my own surprise, I would recognize a strange person within myself. Had I known then how strange I was, what would I have done?

Fiction

I never understood the concept of wearing an outfit only once, by which I mean I’ve never thought about my own wedding.

Fiction

That sweet aroma—one so acquainted with Jabril—was hanging brightly like a piece of the moon within this incantation.

Fiction

We learned about our Other Brother on a summer afternoon.

Fiction

Your mother always told you stories as she oiled your hair: of her youth, legends and fables, immigration, your father’s business ventures.

Fiction

Sudah hampir sepuluh tahun Ambe terbaring di sumbung | Ambe has been lying on top of the casket for almost ten years now

Fiction

“Scared, Starlight?” my big brother said smiling at me as we’d strapped our harnesses into place. “Don’t be.”

Fiction

When they talk, the five sisters, their words strangle each other, pulling and plucking at the threads of truth.

Fiction

The concrete tetrapods tempered the waves, and the space between them made room for love between boys.

Fiction

When the epiphyllum buds reached peak bloom, petals everywhere began to fall. They began to fall like rain.

Fiction

Astrological insights from our twelve flash stories

Fiction

I feel satisfied, triumphant, knowing I have loved the original donut well, though maybe it was only its glaze that I recognized.

Fiction

The sea’s sunlit hues, the model-like beach goers that crowd the snack bar, the fruit from the south that tastes of the earth—they are totally unremarkable to her.

Fiction

I don’t know what to tell you except that children are cruel and her emails were hilarious.

Fiction

Years later, to my own surprise, I would recognize a strange person within myself. Had I known then how strange I was, what would I have done?

Fiction

She selected a single star on which to direct her attention. We are one light, she told herself.

Fiction

I never understood the concept of wearing an outfit only once, by which I mean I’ve never thought about my own wedding.

Fiction

In Chinese, filial piety is a homophone for peel.

Fiction

That sweet aroma—one so acquainted with Jabril—was hanging brightly like a piece of the moon within this incantation.

Fiction

So do I tell her the name Cy sighed last night? Do I say how it landed on me like dew, like shroud?

Fiction

We learned about our Other Brother on a summer afternoon.

Fiction

In that moment who was to say what belonged to me—Munir’s mouth, my luminous skin color, a setting sun, the shady place we were in, I could never tell anyone.

Fiction

Your mother always told you stories as she oiled your hair: of her youth, legends and fables, immigration, your father’s business ventures.

Fiction

Her grandma had once asked her how you could tell the difference between something that had disappeared and something that had escaped

Fiction

Sudah hampir sepuluh tahun Ambe terbaring di sumbung | Ambe has been lying on top of the casket for almost ten years now

Fiction

Like if we shared any of the same interests I could tell him how I recently learned that Kubrick in his younger days used to wander around New York City and play chess in parks

Fiction

“Scared, Starlight?” my big brother said smiling at me as we’d strapped our harnesses into place. “Don’t be.”