“Fog Watch” by Ben White
She should have known something was wrong when the beach resembled a desert . . .
Category: Wilderness Wednesdays
Akashic Books introduces a new flash fiction series, Wilderness Wednesdays. Inspired by Nina Revoyr’s brilliant and chilling new novel, Lost Canyon, which is set in the Sierra Nevada and could be categorized as “wilderness noir,” this series will showcase hard-boiled short stories of men and women in perilous encounters with the natural world. But if you think surviving an encounter with a black bear, a 10,000-foot elevation, or a cell phone dead zone sounds difficult, try describing the experience in 750 words or less. Pretty wild.
“Scorched Earth” by Laura Boss
Brother Tomás watched the red tail hawk slowly circle overhead. . .
“Falling Out” by Thomas Mitchell
The cool water of the lake bit into her as she reached for the canoe, hands slipping against the polished surface, tired legs kicking slowly at the darkness . . .
“Number Two” by Bruce Harris
“More powerful than a locomotive!” screamed the headline in Maine’s Portland Press Herald. Ted Schultz feasted his eyes on the front page, and then turned his attention to the meat eaters’ breakfast special in front of him. “It’s got bacon, ham, sausage, and corned beef hash over three eggs,” pined the diner’s waitress minutes prior. “Breakfast special number two, a meal fit for a hero. And it’s on the house! . . .”
“Doom Desire” by Josh Warrener
Cold permeated. I’d been shaking uncontrollably, teeth rattling, for the better part of an hour; every time I’d try to make myself stop, the shaking would multiply by an exponent and my mind would wander off somewhere else . . .
“Tidal Rebirth” by Meagan J. Meehan
She should have known something was wrong when the beach resembled a desert . . .
“One Night Driving Out In the Woods . . .” by Alexander Jones
Your eyes widen, heart clenches, fingers dig tightly into the pliable steering wheel cover, and you stomp on the brakes, your quadriceps forcing the pedal down as far as it’ll go, and the heavy, heavy SUV swerves and fishtails and pitches you forward, rubber shrieking, but it’s too late.
“Searching for Graceland” by Vanessa de Sade
Even though it was June, the entire island was still engulfed in a soft gray mist like a widow’s mane, and I felt it caress my face with curiously skeletal fingers as I stepped gingerly down the shaky gangway they provided for foot pedestrians . . .