Flora Fiction

12/21/2025

Christmas Night by Eldora Betsy Lyngdoh

As I stepped out of the car and onto the familiar soil of my hometown, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. The crisp winter air carried the sweet scent of freshly baked cakes and cookies, wafting from my family's home. It was Christmas Eve, and the excitement was palpable. Years had passed since I'd last spent Christmas with my loved ones....

As I stepped out of the car and onto the familiar soil of my hometown, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. The crisp winter air carried the sweet scent of freshly baked cakes and cookies, wafting f…

12/07/2025

Kintsugi by Gilles de Luca

It looked a lot like him, the shaggy-haired and tall figure outside of the glass walls, lighting a cigarette, then putting one hand in his pocket. It was Hervé, at least almost him—ninety percent him. Lucien was certain even though he couldn’t see the face. He could tell by looking at the back pressed on the glass. It had an air of insouciance....

It looked a lot like him, the shaggy-haired and tall figure outside of the glass walls, lighting a cigarette, then putting one hand in his pocket. It was Hervé, at least almost him—ninety percent h…

11/30/2025

Soften by Spring by Brittany Eriksen

It was another perfect Sunday and Ana Ca**ón barely had time to notice the pink cherry blossoms outside her bay window. The air outside carried the rich scent of cinnamon buns and French-pressed coffee drifting up from the street-level cafés that surrounded her building. The park was in full spring bloom, bustling with the post church Easter crowd. But inside, Ana sat in her pajamas, untouched by the holiday spirit....

It was another perfect Sunday and Ana Ca**ón barely had time to notice the pink cherry blossoms outside her bay window. The air outside carried the rich scent of cinnamon buns and French-pressed co…

11/23/2025

Matches by Hilary Short

I scan the kitchen island. Cake, knife, paper plates, forks. What else am I missing? Candles! Where are the candles? I rummage through the kitchen junk drawer for the candles I bought when I picked up the cake. “Time to sing happy birthday!” I yell over my shoulder. I should be trying harder to disguise the irritation in my voice but it gets harder the longer these people are in my house....

I scan the kitchen island. Cake, knife, paper plates, forks. What else am I missing? Candles! Where are the candles? I rummage through the kitchen junk drawer for the candles I bought w…

11/16/2025

When the sapphire waves brush this crystal beach,Does the truth of my kaleidoscope vision becomeThe lifeblood of an entity I have never touched? That horizon winks at me, perfect blue, perfectSynchrony with the beating, beating frequency ofThat droning hum in my stomach. The sand in my toes, golden rays of sun beatingOn the skin, is this the truth for which I have searched?...

When the sapphire waves brush this crystal beach,Does the truth of my kaleidoscope vision becomeThe lifeblood of an entity I have never touched? That horizon winks at me, perfect blue, perfectSynch…

11/09/2025

As the crow flies. How odd. As if we fly in straight lines. The wind does not carryour wings in only one direction. Stupid humans. Assuming that nature is so simpleminded as they are. Stupid, stupid. Blowing prairie grass. Blue truck. Farmer John. I know your name. You do notknow mine. You don’t see me. Only fear me....

As the crow flies. How odd. As if we fly in straight lines. The wind does not carryour wings in only one direction. Stupid humans. Assuming that nature is so simpleminded as they are. Stupid, stupi…

11/04/2025

I peered in the fortune teller’s window, not knowing or expecting what may lie inside. Aside from lilac, sun-faded curtains and a garish tree made from costume jewelery and crystals, there was not much to see in the little display; if one could see anything past the dirt. I took a step back to have a look at the name above the door....

I peered in the fortune teller’s window, not knowing or expecting what may lie inside. Aside from lilac, sun-faded curtains and a garish tree made from costume jewelery and crystals, there was not …

10/31/2025

This fictional story is based on the life of Dwight Frye, the Hollywood actor who played Renfield in the 1931 original Dracula movie with Bela Lugosi, various roles in Frankenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein and numerous others with Boris Karloff, as well as the movie The Vampire Bat. This story takes place after his roles started to dry up. He did work in a Lockheed aircraft plant during World War II and the plant actually was hidden as detailed in this story....

This fictional story is based on the life of Dwight Frye, the Hollywood actor who played Renfield in the 1931 original Dracula movie with Bela Lugosi, various roles in Frankenstein and the Bride of…

10/26/2025

The problem with Brown, the thing that got me into this situation in the first place, is that everyone there sucks. Brown was the only Ivy I applied to, much to my parents’ chagrin, because I knew it was the only one I actually wanted to go to. It had this vibe of being the “Cool Ivy,”more laid back than your Harvards or your Yales of the world....

The problem with Brown, the thing that got me into this situation in the first place, is that everyone there sucks. Brown was the only Ivy I applied to, much to my parents’ chagrin, bec…

10/18/2025

Perhaps that’s whyI remain unmoving—your lies wedged deep between the sofa cushions. These walls reverberate the evidence you were once happy here,still hum with our fractured words,a radio’s staticI can’t dial down. The floors, no…the floorsare our legs, entwined,your vulnerability,oh, how your softnesssoftened the unyielding woodbeneath us. Now they creak beneath my steps,...

Perhaps that’s whyI remain unmoving—your lies wedged deep between the sofa cushions. These walls reverberate the evidence you were once happy here,still hum with our fractured words,a radio’s stati…

10/16/2025

Call for Submissions!Fall/Winter 2025 Issue: “Thresholds”

We’re now accepting submissions for Flora Fiction’s upcoming Fall/Winter 2025 issue: “Thresholds.”

A threshold is the moment before transformation, the space between what was and what’s next. It’s the doorway, the crossing, the pause before change. We want your art, words, and vision that capture that liminal place.

✨ Accepting:
• Short Fiction (under 2,500 words)
• Poetry (up to 3 poems)
• Creative Nonfiction
• Visual Art & Photography

💌 Deadline: November 30, 2025
🌐 Submit via: florafiction.com/submit

Show us where you’re standing — and what waits on the other side.

10/11/2025

My love is not a neglected gardenSometimes I splash some cash on a couple of roses and hire a fancy crew But that’s not what it is.My love isn’t some overgrown patch of weedsI could water it less, let it dry out a bit, and let the hose rust in the sun But at least it’s not a jungle....

https://florafiction.com/dirt-by-krysten-lee-kavanaugh/

My love is not a neglected gardenSometimes I splash some cash on a couple of roses and hire a fancy crew But that’s not what it is.My love isn’t some overgrown patch of weedsI could water it less, let it dry out a bit, and let the hose rust in the sun But at least […]