Short Fiction

Misty’s award-winning short fiction has appeared in international and national journals in print and online, in several anthologies, and in three acclaimed collections.

Other Short Fiction

“Leave No Trace” in Roswell: A Literary Collection

The rhythmic chirp of the metal detector sounded like a heart monitor, the kind hooked up to critically ill patients. It gave off a steady, contented chime as I skimmed the flat head of the sensor over the coppery red sand clumped with cheat grass and creosote.

“Hey, chica,” Nik called. “If you find the next Mojave Nugget, I want a cut.”

“The Woman in My Closet” in New Flash Fiction Review

The woman in my closet is watching me again. Flash of white through the folded door, crisp linen tea dress, fascinator, prim buttoned gloves. I laugh. That was never me.

 “The Pizza Philosopher” in The Writer’s Block from the Midwest Writing Center

The dough needs more flour and a pinch of salt. He taps his fingers to two bowls of chalky white crystals and a flick of the wrist casts the grains over the pale yellow disc. Fold, press, fold, press; the move is instinctive, rolling knuckles to wrist, as easy and thoughtless as stroking a cat or the long dent down the back of his lover.

“Vanishing Point” in Literary Mama

I didn’t realize what was happening until the dough hook went through my finger.

“Pandemic,” winner in the River Cities’ Reader Short Fiction Contest 2017

The stainless steel door to my laboratory whispered open. The Director had her heavies with her, the tall Punjabi I’d named Muff and Scruff. The midnight-black car far below had rolled away, armored SUVS before and behind. So you see I was expecting this interruption; it did not take me by surprise.

“The Fitting,” in DOMESTIC (Willow Press, 2017)

Excerpt from “Bay City” appearing in THE NECESSARIES

My Aunt Nat’s bridal shop stood tucked between a fish fry place and a tourist mini-mart selling T-shirts, surfboards, and rack after rack of bathing suits and sunglasses. I tried prepping Parker to meet my aunt, but apparently chatting on the phone over bust measurements and train lengths had already turned them into old friends.