Stories

Story of the Week

All diseases were conquered. Death was an adventure for volunteers.

Story of the Week

A widow is sort of a holy figure, while a divorcée is a tawdry one.

Story of the Week

“I think he does not care for art; I fancy he has not even read Pushkin.”

Story of the Week

A gravely ill man was waiting for me in a village ten miles distant.

Story of the Week

The dog glares back at Roger, his eyes on fire, but he doesn’t let her go.

Story of the Week

Human language, Winston thought, was not adequate for spiritual union.

Story of the Week

The peanut seller tore sheets out of paperback books to make the cones.

Story of the Week

The prisoners were ten ragged scarecrows wearing prison suits.

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Classics

Certainly the ushers who pass the baskets know me as a miser.

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Story of the Week

“We’d be naive,” Crump went on, “not to assume that people are vile.”

Story of the Week

The preacher looked me in the eye. He laid his hand on my chest.

Story of the Week

Lebanon’s dreams of a homeland were fading with every rocket launch.

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Story of the Week

He ended every year in this manner, writing and dreaming.

Winter Contest Winners

I can see on him how things are changing for and against us.

Story of the Week

Lorenzo and me, we’d squat our own building. It was the new frontier.

Fiction

My daughter’s favorite game is Holocaust. She’s quite inventive.

Story of the Week

Paul King was shiftless and drunken; ugly tales were told of him.

Story of the Week

Some inner voice told her that now or never her fate would be decided.

Story of the Week

She favoured me with an even more viciously scornful “Don’t care!”

Classics

When he had passed from view, I stumbled back from the window.

Story of the Week

In a way she enjoyed the slow, sad feeling of letting it go.

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Fiction

How much simpler and more satisfying was the company of men.

Fiction

I needed a paycheck a lot more than I needed to be kissed.

Story of the Week

The tree was shaggy and it bore scars of shrapnel from the war.

Story of the Week

The guards ripped off Mara’s clothes, pinning her head against the wall.

Fiction

The chocolate was old, dusty white, the way chocolate gets after many years.

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She remembers that golden ocean, the promise of a whole new land.

Story of the Week

There was something in her voice, some awful, enduring fire.

Fiction

If he’d had that seat belt on, he would have been pinned inside.