July 2026
Ten stories picked by Laura Black at Fictive Dream
Fictive Dream brings readers the very best fiction from all over the world. We focus on contemporary stories that give an insight into the human condition: the problems, the complexities, and also the positive experiences that people encounter. Most importantly, we don’t shy away from difficult subject matter. We love stories with a distinctive voice and precision of language. Above all, we look for well-crafted and compelling storytelling.
Editor-in-chief Laura Black worked as a publisher in an international publishing company for many years producing books and magazines. Fiction has been a lifelong passion.
Website: www.fictivedream.com
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I (MK) am so grateful to have been twice published by Fictive Dream. Laura Black was the first editor to accept one of my flash fictions back in 2018. The following piece was published in February 2020 and selected for Best Microfiction 2021:
a list of things that are white (Matt Kendrick | Fictive Dream)
What I love about Fictive Dream (MK): there are many amazing people in the literary landscape doing many amazing things, but few of them are as dedicated or selfless as Laura Black at Fictive Dream. Not only does she have a deep understanding of what makes good fiction, but she takes so much care at every stage of the editorial process from the selection of pieces to how they’re presented, often accompanied by wonderful artwork by Claudia McGill.
This month’s selection showcase the depth and breadth of brilliant flash fiction that has been published by Fictive Dream over the last ten years.
Peor es Nada (Niamh Mac Cabe)
Why I like it: This haunting story with its intriguing title (“better than nothing”) never fails to unsettle me. It moves from a family beach scene to the narrator’s traumatic memory of a tragedy, at the same place, years before. The vivid sensory contrasts—“warm” and “ice-cold,” “soft” and “rigid,” “tender blue” and “blue-black”— remind us of the fragile boundary between life and death. I love the three-part structure, which blurs the lines between reality, memory, and myth, the latter represented by a cormorant. The final words, “Peor! Peor!” echo a bird’s cry, as though language itself disintegrates in the face of death, giving way to something more instinctive and raw.
Prompt: Write about an adult returning to a landscape that triggers a childhood memory they have spent years avoiding. Focus on the relationship between memory and place. Include sensory details.
Shapeshifting (Fiona J. Mackintosh)
Why I like it: This nostalgic story about memory, time, and urban change resonates deeply with me because it’s set in London. Many of the places the narrator revisits have been part of my life for years (the No.12 too). As the woman walks through the city reflecting on her past, she feels London is “so familiar and yet so strange.” London has shapeshifted from a place of smoky buses and steamy café windows into a modern metropolis that no longer feels hers. Each location brings to mind a younger, more ambitious self but, over time, she too has shapeshifted. I especially like the ever-present sense of mortality: “This bridge will long outlast her.” Her reflections subtly foreshadow the shocking ending—a moment when time itself shapeshifts before her eyes.
I Still Dream of You, Ben (Roberta Beary)
Why I like it: I love that the emotional power comes from what is implied rather than what is explained. The narrator’s friend Ben has been dead for forty years, yet we’re never told exactly how he died. We’re given clues: the blotches, the vomiting, a devastating epidemic, followed by family denial, and an obituary that records an alternative cause of death. Decades later, in a recurring dream, the narrator tries to correct this: “I find your obituary and cross out leukemia.” But consistently they wake before they can insert the replacement word and the blank space remains. Language has limitations: it has failed to record the truth, and Ben’s identity remains erased.
Mama, I’m Home (Sudha Balagopal)
Why I like it: I’m in awe of how much emotional impact emerges from a story that unfolds in a single, breathless sentence. A mother’s obsessive reflection and grief over her missing soldier son is palpable. The phrase “I was expert at breaking bad habits” embodies the narrator’s philosophy of parenting through discipline. I love her concise account of the habits she once corrected, each one adding emotional weight to the narrative: she stopped his thumb-sucking, managed his bedwetting, and punished academic negligence. She takes pride in having “brought everything under control.” Years are compressed into one overwhelming moment. Now the mother who once believed she could control everything is powerless.
Summer Solstice (Len Kuntz)
Why I like it: I lose myself in this gem driven more by atmosphere and imagery than by plot. The horseplay between three teenagers on a summer’s day develops into something more profound: an awareness that time is passing and that even the longest summer days eventually must end. The solstice symbolises a turning point and, for these boys, the peak of youth. I love the strong sense of movement. Twisting denotes a boy’s dancing, but also suggests identities taking shape and lives changing direction. Indeed, everything is in motion: the winding river, the skipped stones, even the turning of the solstice itself. When the narrator dives into the river, it’s as though he’s diving into consciousness. He emerges with a deeper awareness of mortality, and the sheer joy of being alive.
Prompt: Write about an adolescent who during an ordinary day, suddenly see something familiar—a parent, their hometown, a friend, their own reflection—as if for the first time. Consider the moment when perception shifts and the narrator begins to understand that growing up means noticing things that were always there. Experiment with lyrical language.
Sylvia, Before and After the Sun Collapsed (Beth Sherman)
Why I like it: I so admire how this story is boldly built around the repetition of the name Sylvia and how, with each repetition, a different version of the woman emerges: Sylvia the mother, the reader, the friend, the widow, the teacher. But now Sylvia is ill and for her daughter, the repeated naming becomes a way of preserving her mother’s identity piece by piece, before her condition erases it altogether. I love how the retelling echoes the repetitive patterns associated with dementia. “Tell me again,” asks Sylvia, a simple request and a symptom of illness. Her daughter describes, over and over, who she was, and what she meant to those around her. She strives to resist her mother’s loss of memory, knowing it can never be stopped.
Kerosene Man (Christopher Allen)
Why I like it: I’m captivated by this exploration of the transactional nature of human connection, where a smile functions as a form of currency. As a youngster, the narrator learns the economic value of smiling through his late parents’ kerosene business. His mother tells him, “Never forget to smile.” His father’s smiles are calculated tools that “wrinkled up the skin around our eyes....” Now that the river has dried up and kerosene is no longer needed for boats, the narrator turns to selling emotional comfort. Men pay for his smile, conversation, and physical warmth. He willingly participates in this exchange and the intimacies he allows become an extension of his father’s business model: giving people what they need in order to survive.
Prompt: Write a story that treats an aspect of human connection as a commodity and in doing so consider the complicated ways that people care for one another. Use contrasting sensory detail.
Rock, Paper, Scissors (Marie Gethins)
Why I like it: It amazes me how so much can be conveyed with such brevity, and so compellingly told through objects—blood, tissue, string, a gold nugget, a newspaper clipping—each one transmitting emotive cues that paragraphs of explanation could not. I love the three-part structure with each sub-title—Granite, Kleenex, Shear—representing both literal objects and the stages in the narrator’s relationship with Big Jim. The narrator reflects on the man’s qualities: his willingness to take blame, his adventurous spirit, and his care for a younger cousin. The story suggests that people should be remembered through their expressions of love and kindness rather than obituaries.
But You Can Never Leave (Kathryn Kulpa)
Why I like it: This story has stayed with me because it’s about hope and resilience among siblings seeking refuge from their future stepfather. They hide in a makeshift tent in the family cellar and imagine themselves as invisible spies and ghosts but beneath this fantasy lies there’s fear and a longing to escape. The man’s actions are about erasure: he changes their curtains, paints over wallpaper, and kills weeds. His hatred of weeds is symbolic: they’re unwanted, yet they persist and survive. The children identify with them because they, too, are persistent despite attempts to control them. “We will grow and grow,’ says the narrator affirming a strength that will outdo the oppression they face.
Prompt: Write about a child who lives in an unbearable situation and creates a survival fantasy in which they imagine how they will build a new life. As the story unfolds, contrast the innocence of their plans with their reality. Focus on the tension between hope and hardship. Employ symbolism.
Staying Alive (Eva Rivers)
Why I like it: I love the dark humour that is woven through this otherwise poignant story. The narrator, with a terminal diagnosis, decides to reclaim her life. She’s witty and uses humour to cope with her fear. We get the first hint of this in the recurring references to the Bee Gees’ song Stayin’ Alive. It becomes a symbol of survival, and a spirited challenge to her emotionally distant husband: “Ah…ha…ha…ha…stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.” For me, the funniest moment comes when she describes his encounter with pigs’ trotters at a family dinner. He’s revolted by them and is never forgiven. An example of humour used so skilfully that it prevents the narrative from becoming overly sentimental.
What did you think of these choices? Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments - have you found a new favourite piece? Did you try out one of the prompts?
The Yorkshire Writing Retreat: with Matt Kendrick and Ruth Brandt
Monday 14th - Sunday 20th September 2026 in Thurlstone (Holme Valley)
***LAST CHANCE TO BOOK**
Join us in the idyllic landscape of the Holme Valley for a six-night writing retreat where you’ll learn from two widely experienced creative writing teachers through a series of workshops, feedback sessions and one-to-one chats. You’ll also have plenty of unstructured time dedicated to putting new words on the page.
Write Beyond The Lightbulb
Glorious Words
How do we choose the right words to sharpen up our prose? How do we make our writing unique without it becoming obscure? Is the road to hell really paved with adverbs? This flash fiction course explores language in all its guts and glory, focussing on unique images, concision versus specificity and how to create original tone.
3rd - 16th August
Laura Black is incredible. Thanks for sharing a bit of her back story. ❤️
What a beautiful and thoughtfully chosen set! Thank you so much for including my story.