March 2026
Transformations: 150 Issues & Counting!
Don’t you wish you could be like water? With all its states of matter…? It would be so convenient to have a liquid, solid, and gas form. We contain flesh, blood, and breath, of course. But, it would be lovely if we could utilize states of matter in a more transformational fashion.
Sick of your failing meat sack? Become breath and dissipate for a while. Tired of being blown about on the wind? Form clouds, and rain yourself upon the earth. Buffeted by psychic or physical attacks? Solidify, tighter and tighter, until you are bedrock. Fight, flight, freeze, fawn… TRANSFIGURE!
This month, we are celebrating transfigurations. As a magazine, we are excited to be releasing this 150th issue, and over the course of 150 issues we have changed. We’ve had multiple editors-in-chief, countless volunteers, at least a couple publishers. I’m but the latest in a line of fiction aficionados.
Since inheriting this magazine, I have dreamed of achieving all states of being that a magazine can have—print and audio, while keeping our digital roots. First step has been to update our home base, our website, the look-and-feel, but also the backend content management system. For over a year, we’ve been working with the Dapper + Associates design firm out of Seattle, WA, to achieve this transformation. This month, we will be doing the final migrations and launching it all.
I am beyond excited! And couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than to assemble stories that viscerally describe changes in a state of being. We have two astonishing, space-based transformations—“Moss Senses” by Beth Goder and “Moonmouse” by S.L. Harris.
Of course, not all of transformations are peaceful. Andrew Kozma’s “The Sacrificials” offers a chilling reflection of how collective horror is justified. “The Piano Made of Fingers” by Abigail Koury gives us a physical representation of a teacher’s indoctrination of a student.
Some transformations can’t be undone, as we see in “Second Film” by Christopher St. Prince.
Some are done privately, among family, as in “Float. Sink. Tread. Swim.” by Shelly Jones. And, some—like our own—can only be unleashed upon the world, much like we see in Bree Wernicke’s “The Oil King.”
Each of these stories will be released over the course of the month, in our usual fashion. As we move to the new website, you can follow along with us by checking our social media accounts: Facebook, Threads, Instagram, and Bluesky. Or, by becoming a follower on Patreon. We hope you enjoy watching our transformation!
* * *
Ⓒ Rebecca Halsey
In Brightness and in Darkness, We Sit
In darkness, before birdsong, before even brightening, Old Lady would rise, and we peersons rose with her. From sleeping space in kitchen walls, we’d hear her slippered footfalls, feel blooming warmth as wood cookstove kindled beneath practiced hands. Soon, stove would crackle and sweet porridge smells waft through walls, rumbling our tiny tummies.Always, Old Lady […]
A Lesson On Learning Your Place In the Universe
The class flyer was tacked on the rec center bulletin board among others advertising hot yoga, kiddies gymnastics, and beginner macramé:Four weekends to learn how to exercise demons, spirits, and malevolent entities from people, places, and objects. Results guaranteed.I wasn’t prone to mystical or religious practices, but it seemed a sufficient solution to my sleep […]
Everyone Hates It When The Alien Shows Up At The Club
Everyone hates it when the alien shows up at the club. Everyone hates it when the ten-foot-tall bright-green-and-yellow alien (the one with all the tentacles (the one that smells like ass (the one who’s covered in glitter))) shows up at the club (and on Drag Race Night, no less). At least, we certainly do.For, when […]
A Thimbleful of Need
Need, I decided, tasted of honey and salt. I didn’t like it. Still, I knew to test the tincture before paying for it and so I touched a single drop to my lips. The cloying sweetness clung to my tongue, and I shuddered. Even that droplet opened a craving in me, a well that begged […]
This Blue World
You leave while it is still dark. Your lover sleeps on his stomach, the sheet draped only to his waist.You don’t want to go. You want to slide back into bed and listen to him breathing. And for him to make you coffee later, dark and sweet.But you’ve never let anyone haunt you. And you’re […]
Me an’ Streeter (an’ Vince) Chase a Comet
So Fizzy says, he says to me, “I bet you can’t get your hands on some prismatic comet dust.”And I says, “Really? You’re sayin’ that to me?”And like I know he’s baiting me, because yeah, he’s right, ain’t nobody touching a prismatic comet, least not me, like people die tryin’ that shit, but you know, […]
Support Flash Fiction Online
Flash Fiction Online is a free online magazine that pays professional rates. So how do we make that happen? It’s due to the generosity of readers like you.
Here are some ways you can help:
- Become a Patron.
- Subscribe.
- Buy our issues & anthologies.
- Spread the word.
- Volunteer.