Tag: short story
Rita Zoey Chin: SoloNovember 2013
Your hands swiped gently up at the sky as you named the constellations, each syllable a puff of white smoke into the cold. I could already see the faces our children would have.
A Man of the PeopleDecember 2012
He takes her hand, careful to keep his eyes away from her dominant breasts, her full pouty lips, and they begin in the living room.
Dear JohnOctober 2012
First, it was his hands. Three days after he announced that he was going to leave me, I watched him drinking his coffee and noticed how his three middle fingers were slipped through the handle, gripping the body of the mug in a confident, almost loving way.
The Last Hour of the Bengal TigerOctober 2012
What was I going to do when I saw her? It was a question I had asked myself a thousand times. Slap her? Scream insults? Demand she give my husband back?
When did the Berlin Zoo stop displaying humans? 1931, I think, but I’m not sure.
The AnointingSeptember 2012
Seven months into her husband’s depression, Diane called the church secretary. She wanted the elders to come over and anoint Mitch with oil.
This is a Dad StoryAugust 2012
This story can’t get it’s tense together or it’s person, now. Has it even got its "its" right?
One NightAugust 2012
But the girl is still asleep. Perhaps, thinks the prince, he kissed her too lightly. He stoops down again and kisses her a second time, this time a touch more vigorously.
They were followed by a group in tropical wear, slipping and sliding, trying to prevent their ill-fitting thong sandals from flying off. A smaller group had chosen winter wear, rolling up the block like juiced up ticks, draped in coats and jackets.
I stare at the ground imagining I am one of the condemned, what it felt like to have my fingernails torn off. I clench my fists tight and brace myself for the pain, wishing I was off this wretched island, wishing I was home.
American NurseJuly 2012
American Nurse became our possession, the Party headquarters in Beijing told us, for only a week before Deng decided what to do with her
People who look on the bright side all the time are hypocrites at least some of the time. To say that shitty things are shitty is to speak honest truth about the world.
Devil in the BottleFebruary 2012 She tried not to look at the dead body lying only a few steps away in front of the Berkeh and under her breath prayed to the prophet Mohammad that Faraj had nothing to do with it.
The Doctors’ DaughterFebruary 2012
Guillermo kissed her and she was not afraid of his tongue and his hands on her body, and she wanted to stay with him all night, wanted to lie down on the wet earth, but he turned around and began walking back, pulling her behind him, and soon they were out on the road and the sound of the insects grew distant, and the trees no longer protected them from the stars.
As a writer of minor stature but much endurance, I submit now my application regarding my newest project, my life work, The Life Box.
February 27, 1995December 2011 Murders weren’t uncommon in Lawrence but they weren’t an epidemic either. So they weren’t news.
Twelve Reflections on Brochures and Sword-SwallowingNovember 2011 Cooking was my second love, though. Arthur was third. Sword-swallowing came first.
Fardaha (The General on the Roof)November 2011 Fardaha represents the second dekalogue of Canto X of an unfinished epic by the poet Omid Pirr.
PairidaezaNovember 2011 “It will never stop, and it will always be necessary. What I did to you was necessary, and what you do to me is necessary.”
Running the Lines for FulgenceAugust 2011 The coroner told me at the morgue that the mudslide had crushed Fulgence quickly, and the density of the dislodged soil meant that there would not have been enough oxygen for him to suffer.
The ChaperoneJuly 2011 What delighted me was watching how the sun changed my appearance. I spent nightly hours in the mirror, describing the new shades and hues of my face or arms to my martin, who was colorblind.
Outside the Gates of TroyJune 2011
They sit down in an orderly, patient manner, packed together in the belly of the beast. The smell of varnish lingers on inside and intoxicates them all.
East Beirut, 1978June 2011 “Self,” she queried, “should we just kill him and be done?” She smoked, exhaling through her nose like a dragon.
The Bastard of SalinasJune 2011 “Better to believe that you come from two happy parents.”
Secret BoyfriendJune 2011 The year we went to the Camps, my sister Leila was eighteen years old and had just begun her secret affair with Sammy.
The Price of EscapeMarch 2011 As soon as the maid was out of earshot, his uncle said: “I’ve paid a lot to get you a visa for Panama and Guatemala. At another time, this would be called a bribe. It may take a month, maybe more, to get them.”
Lamu SquatMarch 2011 They fix passage across the channel for three hundred shillings; Meroe haggles. The motorboats have long since skimmed into the dusk, the passengers smiling and laughing at the platitudes of the Lamuans.
Shoes for NapoleonFebruary 2011 Like every soldier he had deployed with, he would probably buy himself a new car, but for now, he bought his friends drinks and dinners and gifts as if it was Christmas and he was some lean and tan Santa Claus.
Loose MoralsFebruary 2011
Did you know that more people jack off than pick their nose while driving?
Rosa de la RosasJanuary 2011 Rosa is tired of talk, tired of being tired. Armed guards stand outside to keep intruders out, or las muchachas in.
CompatriotsJanuary 2011 Finally, he learned her name: Nan.
CareDecember 2010 A special issue: flash fiction from four favorite writers.
DisassemblyDecember 2010 A special issue: flash fiction from four favorite writers.
I Do Love GodDecember 2010 A special issue: flash fiction from four favorite writers.
As Formless As My FearDecember 2010 A special issue: flash fiction from four favorite writers.
Michigan: A Love StoryDecember 2010 The girl is from the state where people use their hands to show where they live.
Iftar at Isabelle’sBy Ian Bassingthwaighte
November 2010 We go outside and into the city, which is a messy conglomerate of heat and waste. We would breathe air if there were any, but instead there are varieties of emissions and so we breathe those instead.
Two Short-Short StoriesBy Ethel Rohan
October 2010 Two stories on leaving and returning to Ireland.
The Consequence of SkatingBy Steven Gillis
September 2010 Life at an empty amusement park: An excerpt from the upcoming novel
The Fragile MistressA novel excerpt by Leora Skolkin-Smith
August 2010 An unpublished excerpt, soon to be a film.
EarsBy Teresa Milbrodt
July 2010 Having four ears could be a sign of the Apocalypse. Or just good for selling a t-shirt.
Part of Us that Can’t Be TouchedJuly 2010 The novelist on Goon Squad, the drug-taking intensity of high school kids, and the Gothic novel.
Emergency RoomJuly 2010 This is what happens when patients lose their patience.
The True Story of Fresh SpringsBy Gretchen McCullough
April 2010 The detectives flashed their I.D.’s, just like they’d seen in the movies. They were simple boys from the countryside who needed a job. She them let in.
Quella, Querida, QuintessaBy Matt Bell
How beautiful our daughter is in her white Tethering dress, dancing with her younger cousins across the decorated length of our yard
The Broken ClockBy Jennifer De Leon
December 2009 He tries to kiss her but she moves her chin. He pauses, considers stopping, but tries once more.
Six from In This Alone ImpulseBy Shya Scanlon with illustrations by James J. Williams, Guest-Edited by Terese Svoboda
I’m down beneath it when a wood bump wakes me.