Illustration by Johanna Lindsholm

Short Short Contest

Literal Latté
Short Short Contest

  • First Prize
    $500

Contest Guidelines

  1. Send unpublished shorts. 2,000 words max. All styles welcome.
  2. Postmark by June 30th.
  3. Name, Address, Telephone Number, Email Address (optional) — on Cover Page only.
  4. Include Self Addressed Stamped Envelope or Email Address for reply.
  5. Include $10 Reading Fee per set of up to 3 Shorts — OR —
    $15 Reading Fee per set of 6 Shorts.
  6. All entries considered for publication.

All currency above given in US dollars.

Remember: email submissions are NOT currently accepted.

All reading fees (by check or money order)
should be made out to
Literal Latté
and mailed with entry manuscripts to

Literal Latté Awards
200 East 10th Street, Suite 240
New York, NY 10003
(212) 260-5532

Literal Latte Short Short Contest Winners

Please note that this listing may be incomplete.

Winter 2013 Issue

The Past Life Hypnotist Predicts The Future By Judith Slater

Winner, 2012 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
Just a few minutes ago I began to feel the tide tugging a little harder, the fog closing in, and I knew without looking at my watch that it was close to quitting time. I’m tired — bone weary, really. In the space of only one afternoon I took a threesome of middle-aged women back, one by one, to 18th-century Lisbon….

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Winter 2012 Issue

Swallows By Christie B. Cochrell

Winner, 2011 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
Isabel would attribute her undoing to that summer in Crete. She would recall how she was minding her own business, reproachlessly conducting research on the iconography of 14th-Century frescoes, when she found God…

Posted in Fiction | Tagged | 1 Response
Winter 2012 Issue

Moss By Christie B. Cochrell

Winner, 2011 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
“A rolling stone gathers no moss.” That was the creed of the Stone family, proclaimed like God’s own truth by Mr. Stone all through the two boys’ school years…

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Spring 2011 Issue

With Shakespeare in the Admissions Room at Yale By Marc Harshman

Winner, 2010 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
The bulldog squats on the mantel, smug in his silence. Inside the mirror a man is noosing his blue tie through the collar of a yellow shirt. The dental work crowning the wainscoting empowers the room to speak for everyone….

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Spring 2011 Issue

And The Catafalques Are All Empty By Marc Harshman

Winner, 2010 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
I am already dreaming about you, Russell Edson, wondering where you are, if you’re still tinkering with the language, leaving surprise packets in the unguarded provinces of our groins…

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Fall 2009 Issue

Escape By John Shea

Honorable Mention, 2009 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
We’ve been told to escape. We’ve been told not to expect assistance, given the circumstances. We’ve been told that the enemy is not merely closer but is inside….

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , | 2 Responses
Fall 2009 Issue

Virgin Flight 244, Chicago to Heathrow By M. M. De Voe

Winner, 2009 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
In airborne darkness, the pain of birth. She grabs her neck just above the locket and feels the pointy head of a small creature…

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Spring 2009 Issue

Whu Rllaey Worte Bradbury: A Coqiluloum By Terry Hertzler

Winner, 2008 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
Fleolw hisortnais & sekrees ov tutrh, wocelme tu the beuiftaul becheas ov Devenr on the Ilse ov Coralodo! Snice tihs coqiluloum iz metineg tu dicusss mteatrs ov sifancgniice tu ar cunontiing msisoin ov hisortcail rveceroy[...]

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Spring 2009 Issue

These Hundred Trills By Rachel May

Winner, 2008 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
The wrong road, I had to drive three hours north, through nothing: flat land, no trees, ripples of air against the pavement, toward the horizon, where there was more of nothing. Only the slightest arch to the land, anywhere. No cars. No trees.

Posted in Fiction | 1 Response
July 2007 Issue

Desert Vacation By Brent Robison

Winner, 2006 Literal Latte Short Short Contest.
The sky is one shade of blue, horizon to horizon. It’s glossy and hard, a vast overturned bowl of fine china baked to brilliant sapphire. Under it, a broken line of humans stretches long and thin across the flats, then bunches thick at steep places where footing is treacherous.

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