Stories
Classics
His hands stiffened so that the fingers curled inward like gray claws.
Fiction
“With me for an uncle you don’t never need to be afraid of him, baby.”
Classics
Gurov reflected, “it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make her acquaintance.”
Classics
He always talked of making money with the air of a connoisseur.
Story of the Week
We backed up and I kept ripping it at his face, trying to knock his teeth out.
Story of the Week
The blood had been soaked up in sawdust—“this is hell.”
Story of the Week
Living as the last artist in Manhattan: it’s the ultimate test of commitment.
Classics
Kids interfere with perfection. Wives interfere. Marriage interferes.
Fiction
The letter both pleased and disturbed her. Why did he get in touch?
Story of the Week
The house of our relationship is a fort. Blanket fort. Tree fort.
Story of the Week
It was up airly and down late with him, and the loom never standin’ still.
Story of the Week
He cannot imagine the shape his life would take without her.
Fiction
There in front of the house was his son’s ratty old Thunderbird.
Fiction
It was on a mid-June morning that the stranger first called.
Classics
The eyes looked into his own with a meaning, a malign significance.
Fiction
Five dark shapes loped after the car. Dogs—as far as the eye could see.
Story of the Week
They would find certain and awful death in Afghanistan.
Fiction
This is not deception. This is a subtle way of conditioning.
Fiction
I am eleven years old and too young to die, but I am dying nonetheless.
Story of the Week
How shocking it was to discover these real things were not real.
Classics
All these and security were within. Without was the “Red Death.”
Story of the Week
Miss Moses smiled, I could take you, buster. Don’t try anything with me.
Story of the Week
Jane’s made it clear, this Renuka might not even become a doctor.
Story of the Week
Your mother still glows with a smoothness that you envy.
Story of the Week
“I mean it, Martín. I won’t marry a man with a bald lip, like a boy.”
Fiction
The child is too perfect to be human; too perfect, truthfully, to exist.
Story of the Week
I hadn’t even tried. I was one of the few kids D.A.R.E. had worked on.
