Fiction
Six-Word Stories
A story about what changes and what remains the same, in just six words.
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
There was no sense in brushing off or any other civilized thing.
Story of the Week
I was enraged at being alone on the outside of all that love and lust.
Story of the Week
The peanut seller tore sheets out of paperback books to make the cones.
Classics
The distant past returned—what part of it, he could not decide.
Story of the Week
The prisoners were ten ragged scarecrows wearing prison suits.
Classics
Certainly the ushers who pass the baskets know me as a miser.
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
How different they were; how comfortable he was that.
Story of the Week
I sometimes forget I’m a horse. I’m also a man dressed as a horse.
Fiction
Frank kept his face blank as he read the orders: Report to Berlin.
Story of the Week
She had been sleeping more and more as the tour went on.
Story of the Week
Lebanon’s dreams of a homeland were fading with every rocket launch.
Fiction
Marie was therefore exiled, as it were, like Cordelia in the old play.
Story of the Week
They went to pray for the dead. It was important to shed some tears.
Story of the Week
Felicia knew why he was there. He was waiting. Waiting for her.
Story of the Week
“We see you tryin’ to hide. Ain’t no use tryin’ to hide in God’s House.”
Story of the Week
“Maybe you should leave the rumba to those who know how to do it.”
Story of the Week
He ended every year in this manner, writing and dreaming.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
We are in his car. “Bell, I’m starving. Want to go for a burger or pizza?”
I panic. Pizza. 285 calories per slice. Burgers. Harder to estimate.
Story of the Week
Chess was a humiliation that hung over him like a leper’s bell.
Story of the Week
“I’d like to talk to C about her personal statement,” Blattman said.
