Fiction
Fiction
The first time I met you I fought your father in the driveway.
Fiction
We are like a village here, separated from the rest of the world.
Story of the Week
It’s just a great big old world with Santa and angels all around.
Fiction
Poems and stories are the whisperings of angels we cannot see.
Story of the Week
I dream of snakes coming out of me and through the house to find her.
Story of the Week
‘Isn’t this great?’ she said. ‘A bit of peace for ourselves?’
‘No one could go into a cafe on their own on Christmas Day.’
Story of the Week
Their mother was the real beauty of the family, or so everyone said.
Story of the Week
When Roy got to school he told his friend Jimmy Boyle about the dead body.
Fiction
“Please, please, please,” she begged the class. “Please don’t do it.”
Fiction
The problem with my mother is that she thinks everyone a fool.
iStories
Howard found himself dancing the merengue with a buxom Puerto Rican.
Story of the Week
I tried mightily, but no longer could I ladle those ancient words into the air.
Story of the Week
The elevator inside him begins to fall with dizzying speed.
Fiction
The pillow into which her face was turned muffled her voice.
Story of the Week
I didn’t trust her. Relationships like ours aren’t built on trust.
Story of the Week
A bird is chirping outside, the world is carrying on, and she is in it.
Story of the Week
Children are never old enough to understand their parents’ affairs.
Fiction
There was a glint of cold red light out there, on the other shore of the lake.
N30B Winners
Your soul feels old and familiar like a book that opens to my favorite pages.
Story of the Week
He knows what she’s seeking, and he knows she won’t find it.
Story of the Week
He’s weirdly hard to pay attention to, even when he’s threatening you.
Fiction
Suddenly, all of the past seemed now like the same endless race.
Story of the Week
Sleepy and pensive, July succumbed to the day’s isolating heat.
Story of the Week
I have given everything at the wrong time, to the wrong people.
Story of the Week
I do not want to fall prey to the bewitchment of my mind by language.
Fiction
I hadn’t always liked being around my mother while she was alive.
Story of the Week
Tobacco and dirty wool, rank alcoholic sweat. I liked him right away.
