Stories
Story of the Week
“You are a strange one,” she says. “Do you want to see my new tattoo?”
Story of the Week
Apparently this was something he had to tell her with his clothes on.
Fiction
It’s hard to say why Marlee wears the bridesmaid’s dress to work today.
Fiction
The night was clear, a fat kingfish moon in the sky with stars.
Story of the Week
The bank had stated that emphatically. They had to sell and sell now.
It was as if Hank had aged twice as fast, and he couldn’t stand that truth.
Story of the Week
Your bookself will appear to find you trivial, its nose deep in some tome.
Story of the Week
Three fingers had been cut from her right hand, two from her left.
Fiction
Nobody knows where I am, Ned thought. No one in the whole world.
Story of the Week
She says, It’s so difficult to find a good guy. My lips form a half smile.
Fiction
Strangely, this may have been the first time I really saw anyone’s face.
Story of the Week
Here’s a first, he said, some nutbag wants to dig the grave himself.
Story of the Week
I opened my pocketknife, grabbed his hair in a fistful, and cut.
Story of the Week
“And if you ever tell anybody what I’m about to tell you, I’ll deny it.”
Story of the Week
Someone was saying his name, and that’s how he knew he was dead.
Story of the Week
Jimmy’s jacket, mittens, and shirt were in a pile next to his frozen body.
Story of the Week
Wishing he could change everything, knowing he can’t. That’s the blues.
Fiction
“Why don’t you call yourself Butterfly?” he said. “A pretty thing like you.”
Story of the Week
Byron’s mother read things to him: Language is fun. Play. Let’s play.
Story of the Week
When and why had I begun to think about Ingrid Stoltz? She was a bitch.
Story of the Week
I think she’s too comfortable with humans to stay in the wild.
Story of the Week
Yup, that’s me. Dirk Fish. Funny, right? Fish who likes to fish!
Story of the Week
Papa’s link to that pond was a matter of blood. And the delicious carp.
Fiction
Lindy knew what happens in the dark behind shut doors: girls tell stories.
Story of the Week
“Mom, don’t you think the fucking racism is worse than my profanity?”
Story of the Week
“Get the hell off my car,” she yelled, and the kids scattered like fish.
First-Person Winners
I stepped down painfully on my cracked ankle and nearly fell.
Story of the Week
At the moment we were having that conversation, she already knew.
