by Victoria Melekian
The women in my family grow wings, big and feathery white, hard to hide and hard to manage when sorrow weighs you down and the wings don’t work and you land in faraway places having to think about narwhals and pollywogs, happy things, until you’re light enough to flap back home, ignoring the houses beneath, the people inside with not enough to eat or enough insulin or enough hope to want to wake up in the morning. Soaring above glimmering grids of light is gorgeous, but maintaining a constant cheeriness as the world below churns—well, I understand why Mom and Grandma gave up their wings years ago. It’s difficult to sustain concern for anything other than staying aloft. I assured Grandma I wanted to care. She clipped my wings using her small sewing scissors. It stung, but now I can feel all of it: despair, outrage, grief, delight, the whole earthbound mess.
6S
Victoria Melekian writes poetry and short fiction. Her poetry collection “The Accidental Courage of Our Lives” is available from Sheila-Na-Gig Editions. “Unhoused,” Victoria’s novella-in-flash, won first place in the 2026 Bath Flash Fiction Novella-in-Flash Awards. For more, see her website.
Flash fiction in exactly six sentences. Publishing writers since 2006.
