Airport Immigration. Similar to IRS, only tougher. The old couple approaching me stood no chance. “Your reason for visiting America?” “Gooder life.” “Better.” “Gooder. Badder was there.” He beamed my way gold-plated incisors, his wife joining. “Family?” “Family?” he echoed. “Hotel?” “Hotel?” “Passports, sir!” He held the passports between thumb and forefinger, three fingers missing … More Chance Encounter
They pushed the camp’s grating gates open and after a few paces stopped, horrified. They were used to war horrors, not to this horror. We just stood there, hundreds of living skeletons, waiting. For what? I started advancing, my emaciated, naked body not betraying even my gender. I stopped in front of one of the … More Not This Horror
When they knocked on the door, forced us in the cattle wagons, I couldn’t imagine that I would fall in love there, amidst the greatest of human miseries, an electrified barbed wire between us and black smoke rising behind me. We knew exactly what we were doing the day we ran towards each other, clasped … More Love Story
Yossi Faybish’s three 100 word microfiction stories, “Love Story”, “Not This Horror”, and “Chance Encounter”, will appear in the third issue of The Centifictionist (Vol. 2, Issue 1, Spring/Summer 2021). Yossi graciously answered a few brief questions for us. Read the interview below. 1. What inspired the stories “Love Story”, “Not This Horror”, and “Chance … More Microinterview: Yossi Faybish
This time He didn’t hold back the hand slaughtering Isaac. Six million Isaacs. And there was no Abraham so whom was He testing? Isaac? Probably. Look at me, Isaac, my flesh marked with the pact, and I’m still here and he’s still my god and I wouldn’t deny him for all the nihilism and the … More Isaac
My father finished the war in a forced labor camp. “I saved many people; they were weak, I was strong; I carried my share of stones, their share of stones; no one knew…They lived to see the end of the war,” he told me once, eyes glistening. My father was a simple man. A couple … More Job
“I got my Metal of Honor.” He smiled, sliding the beer over. And before I could correct him he knocked on his head. “I have also the other one, there.” I opened the drawer. “Gulf. Iraq. Afghanistan. Went there to protect ours, not to kill theirs.” “And this one?” I pointed in awe to a … More Metals
Day 1, Earth: “…the world woke up 24 hours later, exactly as they threatened. Everything seems covered by yellow, pollen-like dust…” Day 2, Earth: “…the aliens have departed…good riddance, one can’t live under a dictatorship, be it of peace. Humanity will find its own way…Preliminary reports define the yellow dust as inert, no risk to … More Yellow Dust
“…muerto…”, dead. Meaningless sounds hitting dysfunctional eardrums after powerful muscles ejected me from my conceiver’s body. A scream. “…cien mil…”, hundred thousand. Sounds. Meaningless. Grew up in Texas, son to a rich family. The ghastly truth hit me age nineteen, marrow transplant, incompatibility. My mother confessed. I landed in Spain, traced the priest, the doctor … More Blood Ties
The Russians arrived. All I remembered about Russians was that they eat children and rape virgins, a major improvement over the present hell. Would they even know I was a child, a girl, naked as I was? One soldier approached me. “Yevreyskaya devushka?” Jewish girl? I wasn’t even afraid anymore. “Da.” Yes. He opened his … More Liberation
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