Stories
Story of the Week
She was here. She could not go on. It was the end—the end of the world.
Classics
Her knees seemed about to give way, and he quickly grabbed her elbow.
Fiction
Our grandmothers were bakers and nurses, spies and traitors.
Story of the Week
All of those feelings—you do not have them, they have you.
Fiction
A scene from the night before comes rushing forward like a dream.
Spring Contest Winners
He loathed them most, despising their desire to get on with things.
Fiction
Brod stopped her before she could fling the latte in Marcella’s face.
Story of the Week
The day was beyond the reach of words like tragic and hilarious.
Masterpieces
I thought how she must thrash with savage agility when she made love.
Fiction
The barman emanated paranoia, the male customers sat introspecting.
Story of the Week
Somehow my confession became a sharp knife I kept hidden in a drawer.
Story of the Week
The story of Wing Biddlebaum’s hands is worth a book in itself.
Story of the Week
I danced with Gerard until we were spinning so hard we fell down.
Story of the Week
I’ve got other plans. And they don’t center on ringnecks.
Story of the Week
Some people are so beautiful, they belong everywhere they go.
Story of the Week
A dangerous heat came from him, the heat of some interior decay.
Story of the Week
In the thickening smoke the workers clawed and flailed at one another.
Story of the Week
His chest was sweaty and his T-shirt stuck to it, bleeding black.
Story of the Week
The world is a riddle of shape and texture, from sight to smell to sound.
Story of the Week
I saw her drunk, with bleary eyes, tousled hair, and a hideous grin.
Story of the Week
The Morgan nosed her for another carrot. She petted his neck. She had loved to canter.
Story of the Week
I remember the sun on the mountain like a trembling drop of lava.
When the lasso dancers were done, they kicked away like wild colts.
Story of the Week
“Well, it’s a dark world, Suzanne. She’s old enough to know that.”
Story of the Week
When nobody knows where you are, you get to talk however you want.
Story of the Week
You are not a soldier, I thought. You are a dog, tail between his legs.
Story of the Week
The specimen, a man oblivious, is beautiful to behold, perfect, enough.
Winter Contest Winners
It dawned on me my passion was not for her but for the making-up.
