Fiction
The Book Circle Party
“You must go to a lot of Book Circle Parties,” I remarked. “Don’t you?” he asked, eyes surveying the rest of the crowd, looking for someone more malleable than me.
Section
Short Fiction
Showing 145-168 of 310 pieces
Fiction
A conspiracy of Mules
Mule carcasses give up ash. Thick and dark. It swirls and swells in the violet sky like a great murmuration. The screams of the mules have subsided, the air thick with the smell of their roasting meat. It is unbearable to these starving people.
Fiction
The Sea and the Sky
In some ways, I hate what I do, though my feelings have never been distinct. It is more of an unease that creeps into my mind when I see my planet so far beneath me, and, surrounded by the boxes and boxes of products and resources that fill the storage space of my cable car…
Fiction
Good Hair
I watched with a sullen expression as she struggled to lift her right leg, gingerly rubbing the area of swollen flesh where I’d kicked her thigh. She placed delicate fingers along her bottom lip, still red and swollen from my punch of a few days ago.
Fiction
The Sound of Running Water
At 1:30 in the morning, Morgan wakes, rises from the bed, and pads over to the master bath for his nightly pee. After his stiff legs and an aching back––both from handling the luggage back at the airport, no doubt––ferry him back to bed, he lies down and listens for the tank to fill up.
Fiction
Horse Sense
Kate tells herself that today she is driving to find the quiet, to get out of town and let the houses and little feed shops and hardware stores thin and thin and thin until there are just the low-slung fences and the uncut grass, little farmhouses up on the sloping hills surrounded by leaning trees and rare shade.
Fiction
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego
Her eyes traveled over to Ezra to see if would go check on her, but he only smiled, pleased again at his discovery of this place. They were only a few inches apart in height, though Ezra was a tall man, and his slenderness made her feel too big for any space they were in together, even one this large and otherwise unwieldy.
Fiction
Cassie’s First Day
The new entrant teacher was her mother’s friend, Mrs Prendergast. Tall and loud, she wore two thick, long plaits that cracked through the air like whips when she moved suddenly. She moved suddenly a LOT. Along with her mother, Mrs Prendergast believed that children should be seen, but not heard. Tolerated. Just.
Fiction
We Were Already Deep in the Song
But then, there he was again, outside at the mall entry, near where the jacarandas line the footpath down the street. He was getting money out of the ATM just as the red and white truck drove into the nearest of the trees. Blind clumsy driving. There was no reason to drive into it.
Fiction
Nurturing
She bent close to him. Errant strands of white hair sprouted from his mostly bald, age spotted head. She kissed it, her insides recoiling. His eyes were closed. She moved his tray and checked his supply of diapers and drinks. She tiptoed toward the door. “I’d like to think you got your love of wildflowers and gardening from me.”
Fiction
A Few Good Weeks
Mrs. Rivera will take care of you and Marie, he assured Kalista. Leave the logistics to her. Mrs. Rivera was a premature widow of forty with pale Spanish skin and an air of puzzled resignation. Her husband, an engineer, had been killed in an accident at Richard’s mine.
Fiction
Ayah’s Gifts
Ayah was like no one I ever knew and Amma seemed relieved. Almost happy. She smiled more and went out with father, leaving me behind with Ayah who caught pigeons and mynahs, broke their slender necks with her bare hands, and cooked them on a makeshift mud stove in the backyard.
Fiction
Who do you think you are?
That’s when I spot him among the crowd. A faded headband loses its battle with his locks, as if they are too rebellious to conform. The musician is looking straight ahead. He gives the impression of not necessarily watching the surf but simply looking beyond it. His eyes seem to be floating in space.
Fiction
With Love, Mathilde
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
A Quiet Fortune
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
Candle Cottage
‘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
The Princess: A Parable
‘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
Suitcases
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
Mrs. Munro is Heading Home
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
Ghost Walk of the Hermitage Ruins
“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
Spider-Girl
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
Red Hand Woman
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
Lotus on the water
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 Essence of Your True Origin
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..