Stories of the Week: 2025

Here is a list of all the Stories of the Week in 2025. For submission information, go to the SOTW Guidelines.

Guadalupe Nettel
The Pink Door
The door would appear in my mind’s eye, except that now it was ajar.
Richard Zabel
Weight
His eyes always astonish her. Iridescent blue, flecked with black.
Linda Bernal
Hurricane Ian
I was passed out on the floor, the TV on, when Ian made landfall.
Ben Weise
Meeting at the Gate
He showered, shaved, put on a clean shirt, then lay down to die.
Daniel Pope
Peaches
We were lying on the grass, sharing a joint. The sun was radiant.
Maryanne Chrisant
Faith
“Tell me that everything will be okay,” I whispered to the photo.
Jennifer Delgadillo
Hidalga
When the lasso dancers were done, they kicked away like wild colts.
Claire Xingying Zhang
Loves Me, Loves Me Not
You’d imagined yourself in the doorway, giving her a knowing look.
Barbara Trachtenberg
Fingerprints
Suddenly Julia’s silence had solidified like cold fat in a frying pan.
Donette Plaisance
You Don’t Know What’s Good
Nostalgia carried heat, like a picnic bench sitting in the sun.
Andrew Porter
Victor
When I think about my mother I think of her mostly in the garden.
A. T. Steel
Honey Buns and Cream Soda in the Stairwell
2025 Narrative Prize Winner
Her wide and vicious mouth blossomed into a savage smile.
Marcy Kelly
Seek Higher Ground
The rain comes down hard, then slow, the wind swirls.
Suzanne Larsen
A Good Boy
The room smelled like crackers and stale flowers.
Rachel Waugh
The Sugar Factory
Like New York City, the factory was circumscribed but infinite.
Jin Zhao
Bad People
For a moment I couldn’t tell whether he was a person or a ghost.
Mark Twain
Eighteen Rules on Writing
Use the right word, not its second cousin.
Jackie Thomas-Kennedy
Have You Met Esther
Just say God, she thought, if you want to talk about God.
Tim Erwin
The Fall Line
I saw Les gazing up at me. And that’s when I made my mistake.
Brent King
Finding Absolution in the Flow
You hope you can be like the river and the music.
Debra Nystrom
Someplace Else
He had found my younger brother Brad there on the kitchen floor.
Lara Waas
Loose Change
Mel’s roommate was making love. Her friend was making babies.
Maryanne Chrisant
Evisceration
“This day should never end,” we said, though we knew it would.
Jennifer Christman
Surrender
Jo had tossed every last wedding photo, wanted no recollection.

Stories of the Week: 2025

The door would appear in my mind’s eye, except that now it was ajar.

His eyes always astonish her. Iridescent blue, flecked with black.

I was passed out on the floor, the TV on, when Ian made landfall.

He showered, shaved, put on a clean shirt, then lay down to die.

We were lying on the grass, sharing a joint. The sun was radiant.

“Tell me that everything will be okay,” I whispered to the photo.

When the lasso dancers were done, they kicked away like wild colts.

You’d imagined yourself in the doorway, giving her a knowing look.

Suddenly Julia’s silence had solidified like cold fat in a frying pan.

Nostalgia carried heat, like a picnic bench sitting in the sun.

When I think about my mother I think of her mostly in the garden.

2025 Narrative Prize WinnerHer wide and vicious mouth blossomed into a savage smile.

The rain comes down hard, then slow, the wind swirls.

The room smelled like crackers and stale flowers.

Like New York City, the factory was circumscribed but infinite.

For a moment I couldn’t tell whether he was a person or a ghost.

Use the right word, not its second cousin.

Just say God, she thought, if you want to talk about God.

I saw Les gazing up at me. And that’s when I made my mistake.

You hope you can be like the river and the music.

He had found my younger brother Brad there on the kitchen floor.

Mel’s roommate was making love. Her friend was making babies.

“This day should never end,” we said, though we knew it would.

Jo had tossed every last wedding photo, wanted no recollection.

2025 Narrative Prize Winner
Her wide and vicious mouth blossomed into a savage smile.