"Lost Balloon publishes flash fiction, flash nonfiction, and prose poetry (1,000 words or less)"
Vibe: Send us your best but less intimidating
Response time:
2-3 months
Payment:
No
Simultaneous submissions:
Yes
Previously published:
No
Submission fee:
Free
Expedited submissions:
No
Available in print:
No
Examples online:
Yes

Important stuff

Active on social media

Genres

👌

Fiction

Max words: 1000Max pieces: 1
👌

Nonfiction

Max words: 1000Max pieces: 1
👌

Poetry

Max pieces: 1Prose poetry only

Examples

'Body of Water' by S. S. Mandani

(excerpt)
The psychic across from the dollar pizza joint on East 6th Street told Rohan he’d die at the age of eighty-five. His cousin Navya smiled terrifically in the corner of the room, having just been told she would be unfazed by the negative energy from the men in her life and have a hallmark year. Rohan had known Navya her whole life, since they were babies, and had met her boyfriend. Layla the psychic was, so far, one for one.
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'Fairest' by Star Su

(excerpt)
The jungle gym in the strip mall was transformed into a tea party café overnight. Mushroom foam and plastic lily pads were plucked from the mud-rubber ground, rolled over by periwinkle marble and re-planted with three-legged chairs, aquamarine gems in the backing. She suggests fairy lights and smoothie names to the manager, tastes rare cheesecake and chocolate mousse, licks the cream clean from the acetate ring. They do a soft opening with his daughter’s fifth birthday, sending invitations sealed with rainbow wax, cardstock recycled from a time when she still wrote love letters. Her handwriting is beautiful when she presses the gel pens hard.
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'A Song About Dogs' by Hugh Behm-Steinberg

(excerpt)
We’re in a meeting, a long, tedious, thorough meeting, the sort with breakout groups that never break out, and whoever isn’t paying attention gets the look. You text me a note, “We should be in a band,” and while making it look like I’m paying so much attention I’m actually taking notes, what I’m really doing is typing furiously, over and over, “Oh yeah oh hell yeah!”
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'Instructions for Fucking Your Postpartum Wife' by Megan Pillow

(excerpt)
1) First, get the groceries. Get the baby when he cries. Get a clutch of flowers, and make sure they’re the wild ones. These, the ones that waver when your car wings past, the ones that seem to be stretching toward you with every stem and every filament. 2) Forget your hands, your mouth. Forget that ancient come-on that you used back when it was just the two of you. Grab her breasts while she’s cooking, and she will become a stinging nettle. Put your hand down her pants when she’s washing the dishes, and she will become a man o’ war. If she lets you, touch her hair by hair and inch by delicate inch. Expect nothing.
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