Section
Showing 169-192 of 315 pieces
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
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
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 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..
Fiction
My mother once called me Hannah, though she didn’t know it was me. A future preacher once called me a bribe from Satan as I..
Fiction
Our world is cold and gray. Grandmother tells me it wasn’t always like this. I find that hard to believe. This is all my brother..
Fiction
The aging Ford shudders its way down US 95 just south of Rome, Oregon with a rust-colored optimism I do not share. Woven seat covers,..
Fiction
“God, I want your hair,” Mary shouts as I deliver five bags of groceries to her. Her wrinkly white index finger is pointing at my..
Fiction
He says he wants to quit smoking, but by now those words are perfunctory. Along with I need to go for a run and we..
Fiction
She died at the age of thirty, at the clothesline in her own back yard on the first day of summer vacation. Dropped straight to..
Fiction
The Garden Spy is from Aamer Hussein’s anthology, Restless. The book is a collage of fugitive fictions, reminiscences of friends, and personal essays which, when read in sequence, offer an unofficial picture of one writer’s private and public lives.
Fiction
The moonlight shined on your brown hair, wet and wavy from the sandy river’s flow. My toes clung to the bark underneath my feet, and..
Fiction
A thin line sometimes is all that separates genius from insanity. A person with a gift for music is called a prodigy, while the person..
Fiction
Sarah giggled as Ian breathed on her neck. “I forgot about how passionate you are. It’s like we’re teenagers all over again.” “We shouldn’t have..
Fiction
A bustling, well-tarred road divides the educational potential of Kasipatti town by gender. On one side lies the Kasipatti Boys’ Senior Secondary School. On the..
Fiction
Five glasses of lemon squash are placed in front of us. Mummy has taught me to never be the first one to reach out for..
Fiction
“I’m coming in a minute. Hold the door for me, won’t you, Robi!” Madhura yelled from somewhere deep inside the house. Robi, her son, was..
Fiction
Looking back, no-one could remember when the clown first appeared on the corner by the park. Everyone agreed that it was sometime last spring and,..