flash fiction


by Arkady Martine

“A long time ago I was an architect, and now I’m an evaluator for post-disaster safety. I specialize in earthquakes, but I see a lot of floods, too.”

A woman frolics on the water in front of a waterfall. Other women look on.

short story


by Marissa Lingen

Flow is how water moves, flow is how one river is not another, one brook, one pond. The shape of the currents. For us, that means how we walk. And I have always walked like my father.

Mar 1, 2018 | news

Call for First Readers

by Elsa Sjunneson-Henry

We’re looking for people who love short fiction, and read a wide range of genres, who are willing to look past “genre” and look for... well. Just good stories.

flash fiction

knick knack, knick knack

by Holly Lyn Walrath

Your mother’s house is a bit of a burden now, all rattletraps and dust, tucked between the oaks and Spanish moss. You are tasked with emptying out this old witch’s hut.

Feb 22, 2018 | essay

Imagining the Past: Speculative Fiction and the Recovering of Black History

by Phenderson Djèlí Clark

Despite calls from some quarters for apolitical SFF, the reality is that for Black creators, fiction and history have always been political.

Nine ethereal Black people stand in defiance, surrounded by creepy dentures and luminous orbs.

short story

The Secret Lives of the Nine Negro Teeth of George Washington

by Phenderson Djèlí Clark

When he wore that tooth, George Washington complained of hearing the heavy fall of a hammer on an anvil day and night. He ordered all iron making stopped at Mount Vernon.

Feb 19, 2018 | news

We're Open to Artist Submissions

by Pablo Defendini

Fireside is permanently open to artist portfolio submissions.

Feb 15, 2018 | news

Our Next Reading Period Will Be in April

by Julia Rios

Fireside will be open to fiction submissions of up to 4,000 words during the last week of April.

flash fiction

How I Got Published (12 Tips from a Bestselling Author)

by Dominica Phetteplace

I was too stung by rejection to query this second novel. I could have tried self-publishing, but it was easier just to give up on humanity.

short story

Dust to Dust

by Mary Robinette Kowal

Lloyd bent down and kissed her on the nape of her neck, smelling the cherry wood and bird-of-paradise dust he'd mixed for her. Her skin was warm and tender beneath his lips. All was well.

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