Fiction
Short stories and imaginative prose selected for publication in Open Arts Forum. Discover fiction by emerging and established contributors, then follow the linked author pages to read more of their work. Explore our quarterly and annual collections, or read the fiction submission guidelines.
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Fiction, PoetryArs Poetica
I don’t use a washcloth in the shower. It’s probably bad for me. Not exfoliating, I mean. I bet someone has died from it.…
FictionDon’t Think
They pile us on a field. Try to identify us, contact loved ones. I think of older sister Nancy. She must be coming. She…
FictionEinstein Waters the Flowers on a Berlin Street in Late August, 1919
-after "Einstein’s Dreams" A man and woman walk hand in hand down the Grabenstrasse. The street is quiet on a Tuesday afternoon. An aproned…
FictionCurtain Closed
I want to believe in reincarnation. Maybe it’s because my father told me, just before he died, that he didn’t believe in an afterlife, had…
FictionA Laugh
The bars close down. The virus. So I have my own drinking night. I line up four glasses of Merlot in my bedroom. Prep…
FictionAll Dug Up
The excavators started one street over, blocking the street with “ROAD CLOSED” signs and orange cones that kids upended with their bikes. “I suppose…
Creative Non-Fiction, Essays, Fiction, PoetryChain Book Store
I watch them come in. The women in Mickey Mouse sweatshirts, their mouths open. They shuffle. Everybody shuffles. The men in winter coats with…
FictionOne rupee coin
A fast train from Pradipghat would take around 45-50 minutes to reach Bharatgadh. Marvan would travel daily between the two stations, in a second…
FictionPathetique
Mother plays piano. It’s a dark night. She plays all the saddest pieces. Tchaikovsky seems to break her piano apart with fervency. Debussy’s sad,…
Fiction, PoetrySelfie with a Dying Cat
I’m at the vet with my roommate while her cat is dying behind a few sets of closed doors, & I notice the purple…
Fiction, PoetryAir Bag
i have tasted air bag, it’s a badge of honor, a one-way ticket to epiphany, it tastes like burnt rubber, like powdery words sucked…
FictionThe Blue Ghost
He gave her a book that was navy blue and hardcover and had a strip of numbers taped on the spine. “You’ll like it,”…