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Showing 241-264 of 560 pieces
Fiction
It is not an easy thing to come upon a monument to such loss in the middle of a cloudless November afternoon when your thoughts are on the joys of life. To witness the horrible beauty of green moss thickening over the memories housed here. The terror of names and dates steadily vanishing from human knowledge.
Fiction
Not one soul from our beloved town, not even my own family, has thought to write. You are the first to extend even the feeblest of niceties and inquire about my well-being. And it means the world to me; for I am left so desperately alone with my thoughts and nobody to share them with.
Fiction
His way of extracting laughter from us floated immediately to mind. His bursting into our after-worship classroom, imitating our rector’s Harvard yard accent: “Jes-a-us say-ed to he-as disc-ah-ples…,” never failed to leave all present in stitches. Learning he’d convinced his fellow high school students that his name was Barrack, like the current president, set something in us free.
Fiction
Before heading out the door, I grab the wallet and the keys, and a few euro cent coins from the small pile of spare change. My eyes glaze over the underwear, a black pair, and they linger for a long moment on the quiet, scentless stain in the breadth of its twisted form. A strange, delicate sensuality.
Fiction
‘Where are you from?’ he spoke slowly, digging deep into his thoughts for the only question he could think of to start a conversation, as if that skill of social inter reaction had long ago been placed in a far corner of his mind because he had convinced himself it was of no further use.
Fiction
‘Who am I?’ The Princess asked the breeze. She asked the coloured waters, she asked the jewelled sky. She leant against the tree trunks, and sought her answers there. All she saw was beauty, all she saw was life though she didn’t recognize it so.
Fiction
The student teacher was substituting that day in 11th grade English. This pleased Butch Warner, a tough guy who resented authority. He expected a lame..
Fiction
Brenda sat on the edge of the bed in her dead father’s room. She could still smell his piss. The staff at the nursing home..
Fiction
Each day, after breakfast, but before lunch, I’d see her old car making its way up the dirt road, great clouds of dust surrounding the..
Fiction
There is a Japanese folk tale about a palace under the sea, a palace made of crystal and ruled by a Dragon King, where time..
Fiction
“Okay, mister. I’m intrigued. I should have known it would be something romantic.” Before leaving the house, I’d said, “Bring your boots and a sweater,” but I wouldn’t let on what I had planned. I should have told her, but communication was one of my weaknesses.
Fiction
Please enter into the simulator and prepare for the memory reconstruction workflow. Sofia’s humanoid voice rippled through her mind. She stole a glance at the..
Fiction
I hug my wet sweater to my body as I stare at the retreating bus. Seriously? Bitch, I take this bus every day, and you..
Fiction
Today, at two months shy of sixteen, Thenmozhi finally felt like a woman. She assessed herself in the tall old mirror; black and red oxidisation..
Fiction
There were chimpanzees in our back yard. Oops, I did it again. Chipmunks. A dozen of them, constantly scurrying across the lawn from the sparse..
Fiction
Author’s Note: I am an enrolled Native American member from the Fort Berthold Indian Reservation in Mandaree, ND. My people are the Hidatsa. Missing Murdered..
Fiction
John breathes in deeply, feeling his chest muscles expand. Blood rushes around his shoulder muscles. He feels good. He’s going home now and will be able to be there for a while because he was told something this morning that he never knew until then: he’s non-essential.
Fiction
The cup broke into three pieces. There was no cinematic splatter of fragments; just a flat note of three sturdy pieces and a few splinters..
Fiction
The tight fabric of the kite kicked against the wind and shot up into the sky. It was an exceptionally windy afternoon, but the sky..
Fiction
It was time. Mama and Daddy said it was time. I was almost nineteen years old. I could haul wood, split logs, drive Daddy’s tractor,..
Fiction
Alessa’s mother left for work at 6 a.m. cada día, not a minute too early and not a segundo too late. Within fifteen minutes, Alessa..
Fiction
When he fell, Frank Wetherell became the sixty-first worker to die in the construction of the tower. It would be another year and three weeks..
Fiction
Sometimes I’d worry that the greatest thing about me, the thing the world would remember me for above all else, was Dad. Mom was great..
Fiction
The headline was the death of someone the media called a ‘bright young actor’. Abha took a sip of her morning tea and went on..