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Your image is on my credit card, you and the old red, white, and blue.

Like a ghost, he appeared at the entrance of his hermitage.

The dead children were wheeled away, covered with white sheets.

Your intelligence and charisma would serve you well in life.

How’s everything? It’s been forever! Things with me are pretty good.

My advice is to take advice with a grain of salt.

Writing is a subversive activity that exempts you from the rules.

Getting answers is easy. The difficult thing is knowing the right questions.

It was the sixties, and I was in
college and incredibly restless.

He was making some green by ripping his own heart out.

The boat’s one of the most flagrant symbols capitalism ever spawned.

“It’s true I wanted an adventure, but I had a different kind in mind.”

When his father was out cold he tied him up, roping his arms to his sides.

The author reads her story, a finalist in the Winter 2013 Story Contest.

At first my dad was optimistic that he could be a one-armed farmer.

Creating so many mail merges, loading ink, unjamming paper.

“I’m looking for a Mr. Miller,” he said. “I was told I might find him here.”

“Why don’t you call yourself Butterfly?” he said. “A pretty thing like you.”

I had never thought of bed before as anything but an innocent place.

Nina sang “Tell Me More and More and Then Some” on the Caddy’s radio.

Somehow, Captain Brown made himself respected in Cranford.

“Are all the girls really beautiful? Is it true you make out in the showers?”

Papa’s link to that pond was a matter of blood. And the delicious carp.

The financial plan works if we eat 40% of the kids before college.

Liza Donnelly

And up ahead you'll see some jagged rocks that will kill us.

Peter Vey