Alice K. Boatwright is the author of dozens of short stories published in journals such as Stone Canoe, Beloit Fiction Journal, Paterson Literary Review, Penumbra, and America West. Nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Million Writers Award, she was a finalist for the Flannery O’Connor Award for Short Fiction and received an Individual Artist Award from the New Hampshire State Council on the Arts to support her writing.
New Flash Fiction Now Online
Alice’s new story “What Comes to Hand Must be Faced” was published in December 2017 in the Open Journal of Arts & Letters.
“Life Sentences,” the third in a trilogy of stories set on an island in Puget Sound, will be published by Amarillo Bay in October 2018. A story set in Paris, “J’arrive,” has been accepted for publication by Calyx in the Winter/Spring 2019 issue.
Featured Story: After Giselle
On the brightly lit stage, a peasant girl flirts with her lover. He loves me/he loves me not/he loves me. Petals fall from the flower in her hand, and she looks dismayed as the last petal falls: he loves me not. Her lover grabs a fresh flower. He loves/he loves/he loves. He says. She laughs and together they dance, joy lifting their feet, lighting their faces.
No matter how often she saw Giselle, Sonya was shocked by what came next. His lies exposed. Her madness and death. His grief and then salvation through the power of her love.
As the curtain fell, Sonya strained for one last glimpse of Albrecht, prostrate on Giselle’s grave, the lilies from his hands scattered on the ground. His loss filled her eyes with tears.
Then the grave was gone.
Anna came out smiling, a sheaf of roses in her arms. As she curtsied, her white dress touched the stage. Servan, in a black tunic, stood at her side. His dark hair curled forward as he bowed, smiled, then took Anna’s hand and kissed it.
“Brava! Bravo!” the audience shouted with relief and joy.
The noise boomed up into the rafters of the theatre, and Sonya clapped until her palms were stinging. Anna curtsied again, her eyes cast down. From the orchestra pit, the Maestro blew her a kiss. Flowers showered down, littering the stage with color. Sonya thought the shouting and clapping would never stop. Continue reading