Fiction
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..
Section
Fiction
Showing 457-480 of 560 pieces
Fiction
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..
Fiction
Missile Crisis
An essay by Joshua Weinstein Our fate will not dare to reject us. This fact I know well, if we’re all blown to hell..
Fiction
The Road to Tullahoma
“Go on now, nobody needs ya ‘round here.” groused Whitman as he spoke to the wind that rattled the length of a row of Beech..
Fiction
Over and Over
I had recently graduated from college, where, as a matter of fact, I received an outstanding dissertation award. I met Lucila in an introductory stock..
Fiction
All The King’s Men
The family came to visit the house one warm Sunday, early May, the April rain lingering in parks, on sidewalks, in the cloudy skies. The..
Fiction
Hsi-Wei and The Twin Disasters
Note: The following is drawn from the Tang Minister Fang Xuan-ling’s account of his extensive conversations with the peasant/poet Chen Hsi-wei, whom he visited in..
Fiction
Dry Day
The date was 27 June. Or it may have been 28th. I’m not sure. But this took place at a time when I was still..
Fiction
The Ballad of Maher’s Skin Cancer
When he told her that Dr. Kahn said he had skin cancer because over the years he had refused to wear a hat, sat too..
Fiction
Trespass
Every day, before I begin my rounds, I stop at our home’s shrine to Zheng He, the one whose voyages over 300 years ago started..
Fiction
The Fruit Grove Girl
I’m not sure why I didn’t tell Grandma about the girl sleeping in our fruit grove. It was around midday when I found her. The..
Fiction
Insomnia
Who among us has not dreamt, in moments of ambition, of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical without rhythm and rhyme, supple and staccato..
Fiction
Being Red
I haven’t really done much. The least I can do is write this down while I can. I was a lazy redhead – the sloth..
Fiction
Grace and Jimmy
When I was a child, I saw my father as the Indian Jimmy Dean. He was a young god. That’s why my mother married him. ..
Fiction
The Story of the Woman Who Fell in Love with Death
In an armchair at the center of a Starbucks, nearly hidden by its arms, a young boy reads, perplexed but concentrating hard: Once upon a..
Fiction
Bunny Hop
My destination was about 30 miles from Reno-Tahoe International Airport. I drove along I-580, to US-395 S., to US-50 and took exit 39 and as GPS..
Fiction
Binding Off
Things were moving too slowly. By September, there ought at least to have been a back and a front. Sprouts of sleeves. But her mother..
Fiction
The Chilean Miners
I never chose to be a writer: it chose me. I’ve even tried to rid myself of it for good reasons, financial and protectively egoistic,..
Fiction
Faces
Haunting eyes on the front page of the Sunday Chronicle stared back at Angelo so darkly that he held his breath. He removed his glasses,..
Fiction
Errands for Sir
On Thursdays, because he got home past midnight, Yadav wouldn’t sound the car horn. He’d wait outside and flick the headlights on and off. If..
Fiction
The Brick
There is a photograph of my mother standing in front of the chain link fence around the Chevron Oil Plant in Richmond, several minutes before…
Fiction
Pieces
It happened first in the shower. Sasha stood, scrubbing her body, her mind occupied on the day, on when the man might be answering her…
Fiction
A Life, A Book, A Chance
Veronika usually woke a few minutes before the church bells rang. This day she had been up for hours, tossing and turning in her small…
Fiction
I, etcetera
I suppose a certain kind of Calcutta novel can be written. By a certain kind of Southern Avenue Calcuttan such as me. These are read…