The Unicorn of Sinsol: Part One

Hello there. If you’re reading this, you’re probably stuck at home during the pandemic looking for something to do. It’s wild times when that sentence is not itself a work of fiction. The world of Sinsol is one that has been 14 years in the making (seriously, ask my friends), but I am writing this story in real time, right now, to help you–and me–stay sane and entertained while quarantined. It hasn’t undergone much editing. It probably has too much exposition, or rambling run-on sentences, or other problems that would be cleaned up in the editorial process. Please forgive its ramshackle qualities, and enjoy it for what it is–a little piece of free serial fiction that you can use to escape momentarily from the chaos […]

First Hit

  The stage is dark and bare, save the trappings of bathroom. A sink. A lightbulb, flickering. A mirror with no reflection. A toilet. A mat. The Woman is still young enough to think of herself as a girl. She perches atop the toilet, feet resting on the lip of the cover, knees tucked under her chin. The Man crouches beside her, one knee pressed into the blue bathmat. He looks romantic, holding her hand on his flat, open palm, like a gift.

flash fiction by Elizabeth Brico

Does That Work on Velociraptors?

It is one of those days when the sun dazzles across the waves and the sky languishes in its warm blue appeal.  Once upon a time, these were Angie’s favorite days; days when she would leave her shop door open, bask in the marine musk, and let herself be lulled by the sound of seagulls prizing in the distance, but now the smell that rises from the bay is that of gore and rancor, and the only sounds are the shrieks of constant human suffering.

Broken Mirror by Elizabeth Brico

Broken Mirror

Patricia’s body felt like it was sinking downward.  As though gravity had been turned up against her.  Her breath was short, trapped in her chest, and she felt poisoned by the paranoid, impossible certainty that the walls were clutching at her.  Patricia had always been the level-headed one.  Not prone to over-worrying like her own mother, or to whimsical imaginings like her husband and children.  But now…now she was half-crazy with thoughts of plummeting through the earth or being consumed by the sky.  It was humiliating. She crossed her legs, very tightly, and passed a hand over her face. “I can’t do this,” she sighed. “You can’t do what?” asked Amy. “I just…I don’t…I don’t have the words.” “That’s okay.  Wait for them.” Amy’s voice […]