SCARBOROUGH FAIR is currently hosting a Flash Fiction and Poetry Contest open to all University of Toronto Students. The strongest pieces will be selected by a panel of judges and be published by Scarborough Fair.
CLICK HERE for complete submission details.
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Filtering by Category: Fiction
It was the last week of summer, and I was at my cousin's when it happened. Sweat pooled down my back, and the nerves in my right shoulder twitched. Faint pins pricked along my face, but I ignored them. It'll go away soon. They always do.
Read MoreMy dad picked up a navy-blue dress shirt, ironed to a crisp. He eyed it for a few minutes, turning it around, upside down, then he checked the tag and wrinkled his face.
“Too expensive”, he muttered to my mom.
The big, bright red sign read “$50 and less!”
I shattered to pieces.
Read More“A story on the challenges of expectation, pressure and overcoming fear.”
Read MoreWhen I was eight, my sister Alison fell out of the pine tree in our next-door neighbour’s yard and split her head open.
Read MoreHe and I were lovers long before he began painting. Before today, I hadn’t even known that there was an artsy bone in his body. Regardless, this would be his first and last exhibit, and seeing as it was dedicated to me, I knew that I had to attend. I hadn’t seen him in 12 years. Not that I would see him today, but I still felt the occasion was worthy of my most elegant gown.
Read MoreSnow crunched underfoot as Malcolm walked through the trees. These woods were familiar. He knew the paths the deer took. He knew where to wait for them.
Read Moreby Natasha Ramoutar
I don’t know why she always has to stick her nose in my business. She tells me I’m an addict, tells me I need to go to some weekly meeting nonsense.” Beatrice held the pipe carefully with one hand, fumbling with the lighter in the other. “I can control this!”
Read Moreby Natasha Ramoutar
"Mom, what’s this?” asked the child, her small fingers clasped around a jar.
The mother took it gently from her hands, carefully opening the lid. “Ah this,” she replied, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “This, my dear, is stardust.”
Read Moreby Jacob Zolotenko
In retrospect, it is somewhat strange that we met each other through our two fake profiles on OKCupid, but it always makes a fun story for our fake grandchildren around Christmas time.
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