Section
Showing 49-72 of 555 pieces
Fiction
The General broke out into a fit of laughter, picking up the earthen ball of clay. “Oh, la fille,” he laughed, as my family and I remained still. “You are but a commoner, so you do not know better, but this is a holistically inaccurate depiction!” He would not stop laughing. “Come here, child. You see, the Earth is flat, like this table.”
Fiction
Under the Rules & Regulations of the Apartment Owners’ Association of the Sandhyatara Apartment Complex, pet animals were prohibited. No one had violated the prohibition so far; but a puppy arrived in Apartment 1102, on the eleventh floor of Building C, about a month back.
Fiction
“What kind of purple?” I hadn’t a clue. She prodded me forward. “Is it blue purple or red purple?” Blue purple, I was sure. “And what color is the shadow?” Purplish grey, I guessed. Yes, she said and awarded me the praising smile I coveted.
Fiction
The Dodson twins never imagined what would come of it that day when their aunt dropped off a Banyan seedling on their doorstep.
Fiction
“The marigolds are dying,” Maggie started the conversation as if they were already in the middle of a conversation. She then sucked a cigarette, her exhalation roaring into the receiver. “It’s only September.”
Fiction
The boy was fourteen, so he knew what he was doing. At fourteen we are everything we will ever be which is why it’s then that the world attempts to so drastically improve us.
Fiction
The path was often muddy, you had to use roots for steps, and it led us out of the warm light that the barn breathed out.
Fiction
Branko was right, Agoston was never very prosperous. He was a blacksmith in the old country
Fiction
Just before dawn. Another blue sky turned orange. I burned through a neighborhood in Agoura Hills.
Fiction
With dawn the rain abated, and as the boy unzipped and peeled back the tent’s door panel to survey the campsite
Fiction
I nodded, looked out over the city, and thought that what Jake had just said was exactly what was wrong with white people.
Fiction
To be fair, Fred does try to “improve” the bus. A few months ago, he installed a wooden stove in the middle of the aisle
Fiction
Only when he passes Ms Kriti in the main corridor does Pujari Lal realize what had happened.
Fiction
Mark throttled off and let the train ease down to forty. There was nothing else to worry about for miles.
Fiction
A bump came up through the seat, another bump. They had landed. A string of runway lights gliding past, then a row of blue and orange Lufthansa tailplanes
Fiction
A few days ago, colleagues at a work function had been standing in a circle. He was pallid-work-him glass in hand, standing to one side.
Fiction
I miss the parts where my siblings and I would pile into my parents’ bed on the weekend, my father still half asleep and my mother long awaken.
Fiction
Mrs. Greene just shakes her head. For a moment, she seems about to speak, to demand something again—
Fiction
She is sixty-seven years of age, she looks her age, and to me she seemed to have aged overnight one day in September 2019.
Fiction
On the couch again, she propped her feet up on the turquoise ottoman and picked up her book but found she couldn’t concentrate.
Fiction
My chest is still buzzing when we rise together from the planks and wander into the meadow.
Fiction
The girl walks towards the waves by herself, still clutching the packet of biscuits, the water a little above her anklets.
Fiction
They followed a path down to the shore, suddenly aware of the silence,
Fiction
Outside, noise from the street reminded Dave that life existed beyond his apartment.