The leather bag

The leather bag

Translated from Tamil by Jayanthi Sankar She pressed the doorbell. One of the duplicate keys to the front door had been left with her. However, she…

Read Article →
Bad Pet, Mad Pet

Bad Pet, Mad Pet

The long black hair of the vampire smelled of wildflowers and fresh soil. I inhaled hungrily, absorbing in every way I could think of. His…

Read Article →
Museum Canvass Rarely Seen

Museum Canvass Rarely Seen

The war was over, but for how long we didn’t know. The streets were filled with debris and fires. As we walked among the bombed…

Read Article →
Sassanids, etc.

Sassanids, etc.

He’d been on his knees all morning the second day when he first saw her. It was the only time in his life he saw…

Read Article →
Model Citizen1

Model Citizen1

George Tandle stood, patiently waiting for the 7:38 from Bunker Hill to Hardchester. From the lofty vantage point of the station, he could see nearly…

Read Article →
The Strings

The Strings

The walls were a sterile white, bright enough to blind. I kept my eyes partway closed, watching the nurses walk past in their crisp candy…

Read Article →
Post Mortem

Post Mortem

Kusum, A. (18 November 19–) Letters to the editor, Dainik Bharat, Manoranjan Ravivar, p. 5-6. Editor’s note: Printed here unedited, this curious letter and its…

Read Article →
Shell Game

Shell Game

My anxiety went through the roof once Adam left. The cage I had built to contain my fears collapsed – a cage formed from the…

Read Article →
Clearcutting

Clearcutting

We had all these kids uprooting trees. We provided chainsaws. They sent chips of bark flying, catcalled to one another, egging each other on. I’ve…

Read Article →
Needles

Needles

Mandy Bishop had heard a good bit about acupuncture over the years. She was, after all, fifty-four and the Chinese therapy had been somewhat in…

Read Article →
Love at Last Dance

Love at Last Dance

Traffic inches along the 101 Freeway at rush hour South of San Francisco on a Friday evening except for the luxury buses racing up the…

Read Article →
The Village of One House

The Village of One House

Last year, in the month of July, usually a time of reckoning that comes in the wake of appraisals at an advertising agency, I realised…

Read Article →
Meeting Salim

Meeting Salim

Squatted on the ledge of his hand-pulled rickshaw, a man with light grey hair, in a chequered lungi peered at me as I looked at…

Read Article →
Homecoming

Homecoming

“As a rock on the seashore he standeth firm, and the dashing of the sea waves disturbeth him not. He raises his head like a…

Read Article →
The Tashka

The Tashka

It was made of aluminum, I suppose or some other metal. It was shiny and steel colored and had my father’s other name, the European…

Read Article →