Fiction
Short Shorts
The linebacker grins, but the lines around his eyes tighten.
Fiction
From the roof, my husband observed daily a man and a woman having sex.
Story of the Week
There was a time when all I wanted was go back. Ask all the questions.
Fiction
She pulls quickly on her cigarette and blows it at me through the phone.
Photography & Art
“If the world is becoming a void, the artist must fill it with his soul.”
Story of the Week
The consensus was that all the great writers drank way too much.
Fiction
My father was at an awful disadvantage in a sport where cunning is a virtue.
Story of the Week
It was a Tuesday, so they made love. She thought it was a fair compromise.
Classics, Story of the Week
Both Sherlock Holmes and I had a weakness for the Turkish bath.
Story of the Week
Sometimes the phone would ring and ring, and I’d go answer. It was him.
Story of the Week
“I have always had a gift of feeling what is in other people’s hearts.”
Fiction
I’m still in love with this filthy city, but now I know Berlin's love isn’t free.
Fiction
“were all here pregaming. at my dads apt. Wher the duck are u.”
Fiction
No one answered. I turned to his parents. My stomach felt on fire.
Story of the Week
“I am not in the least fond of Venice. I should like to go far away!”
Fiction
We didn’t give the order to drop the bomb. But thank God somebody did.
Fiction
For the first time in her life she stood naked in the open air.
Fall Contest Winners
It was good they were Africans, she thought. It meant less danger.
Story of the Week
All was hushed and stonily still, like the moon and its lights and shadows.
Fiction
Anytime I drifted off I wished to wake up against a cold, silent body.
Fiction
It’s a mistake to be here, he thinks, but he doesn’t turn around.
Story of the Week
Gramps’ will was a fifty-year diary, all jammed onto two sheets.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
When I meet his gaze, he’s frowning, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes.
When saw the fury in his eyes, I thought he was going to kill him.
Story of the Week
There was a blue wool afghan draped across the back of the couch.
N30B Winners
We were hurtling close to a hundred miles an hour through the dark.
Classics
“I suppose there have been a good many men killed in this room.”
Fiction
Stopping it, Cye knows, is like stopping a tsunami with a tennis racket.
