Fiction
Story of the Week
Society was imposing, like something out of an English drama.
Fiction
The clown has taken a seat at our veranda table in absolute silence.
Story of the Week
I could shoot you and nobody would say boo. I’m within my rights.
Story of the Week
Try to make order in one direction, and things shoot off in another.
Fall Contest Winners
“Mind you come straight home,” Mrs. Heywood always says.
Story of the Week
His thoughts swirl around him. Maybe women aren’t women anymore.
Fiction
The sight of her belly ring and the smooth, tight canopy of flesh.
Story of the Week
My father left me in the car while he was grabbing one for the road.
Spring Contest Winners
On this small island, everyone knows who comes, especially who goes.
iStories
Mr. Holt had grown old since Beverly last saw him. He looked weary.
Story of the Week
You might say I acted on instinct. All I wanted was to stop the screaming.
Spring Contest Winners
Does he not see our likeness? Fursten seemed to see nothing.
Story of the Week
I looked up from the cave floor to see a guy pointing a handgun at us.
Story of the Week
When I wasn’t teaching social studies, I basically lived on my balcony.
Story of the Week
Her skin was bruised under her eyes, purple like the swollen toe.
Story of the Week
Son, do you know of shame? Then you must know that I cannot feel it.
Story of the Week
He could smell the bear’s breath, feel the hot huff against his ear.
Story of the Week
The wind was like a girl sobbing out her story of betrayal to the stars.
Story of the Week
Emil was busy applying his anger therapy, and it was working.
Story of the Week
Maybe all of it was possible. Maybe it all could work out.
Fiction
Maybe this was one thing in his life he had done right, or so he hoped.
Fiction
Here they were, two surviving soldiers from opposite sides.
Story of the Week
We left our lives behind us as fast as the Beemer’s zero to sixty.
Story of the Week
The boy imagined his dead grandfather haunting the world.
Story of the Week
“It means,” Stoner said again, and could not finish what he had begun.
Fiction
Long and black, almost thick, the night comes to drape my shoulders.
Story of the Week
No one is dead, but you should come back. See what’s become of us.
Story of the Week
Truth, it seems, spills from movies and sitcoms in the wires’ wake.
