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Grizzly Feed – originally published in The Molotov Cocktail

Cover art for The Molotov Cocktail journal
March 19, 2023 ~ Noemi ~ Leave a comment

I remember a house. An L-shaped house in the woods. Long corridor, small kitchen. One exit, locked.

Seeking Our Neighbor John at Lake Ridge Apartments – originally published in Maudlin House (CW)

A person holding up a traffic cone.
December 19, 2022 ~ Noemi ~ Leave a comment

[CW] Hey buddy, nice loafers. Listen. Do you know our neighbor, John?

Your Number Is 78 – The Estimated Waiting Time Is 220 Minutes — longlisted in the Autumn 2022 Reflex flash fiction competition

October 18, 2022 ~ Noemi ~ Leave a comment

Seventy-Eight cracks her thumbs. Status. The word tastes like a fishbone pierced in the throat.

When Walking Away Becomes Walking Toward – originally published by NFFD’s FlashFlood 2022

Hiking in the Italian Alps
June 23, 2022 ~ Noemi ~ Leave a comment

Walk. Walk through the door, through the cracks cutting open the asphalt like wounds, through the dogs, leashed in chaotic barking, already smelling something savage on you.

The Mayor’s Bride – originally published in Ellipsis Zine

May 8, 2022 ~ Noemi ~ Leave a comment

They call her The Eighth, The Pure, The Hope, The Youngest. Anything, but her name.

How A World-Famous Pianist Arrives At His Venue Where He Plays Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No 2 In A Slightly Out-Of-Tune C Minor – Published in Janus Literary, shortlisted by Fractured Lit

April 11, 2022 ~ Noemi ~ Leave a comment

Papa says people can recognise him even under the shade of his black bowler hat. He points a bony finger up to the rim, then readjusts the long box under his arm.

The Great White Shark Spends a Fortune at the Dentist – Published in New Flash Fiction Review

March 29, 2022 ~ Noemi ~ Leave a comment

When I was six, I had a sister. She liked to call herself Red because she despised pink. She said pink tasted like cat piss. I didn’t know how cat piss tasted, so I believed her.

In-Between – Originally published by Moonflake Press

February 26, 2022 ~ Noemi ~ Leave a comment

The smell of other people's history. Not her history.

Looped in a Zorb – originally published by Sledgehammer Lit

December 30, 2021 ~ Noemi ~ Leave a comment

The bloated ball stops at the bottom. We clamper out. Bruised.

Juliet Is Drinking Her Morning Tea When She Notices A Crack – originally published by Ellipsis Zine

September 19, 2021 ~ Noemi ~ Leave a comment

1 sip Hot blend of black and a spot of white. A stroke to the tongue, a hump to the throat, a pause to time. Perfect. A crack zigzags ceiling-to-floor. An insulting cut to the book-page-white wall.

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Photo of Noemi Scheiring-Olah

Hi! I’m Noémi.

From a small ex-Soviet flat in Hungary, now a nomad in a small world. A fan of cats and underdogs. she/they/we 💚

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