Short Fiction
Portrait
5 min
One of the first things my mom did after we found out that I'd gotten in was search online for a winter coat for me. She saved money and bought me a beautiful Cabela's coat. It was full-length with a
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Short Fiction
Portrait
5 min
Quicksand Street
We call it Quicksand Street, despite what the road signs say. Where the sidewalks should be, two long columns of dirt reside, that kick up dust in the summertime. In the spring, when the rain really
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Short Fiction
Liturgy of Light
A cornucopia of color. A litany of light. That's what I could count on come December. It had even spiraled into a competition amongst my neighbors, each house trying to one-up the next. But as far as
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Short Fiction
The Sweetest Stench
My father died of heart failure the same Chinese New Year girls began to draw my eye over my ire. I wasn't present for his death but figured us square since he wasn't present for my life.
Though ... [+]
Though ... [+]
Short Fiction
Portrait
5 min
Evaporation
Last performance review cycle, I got a "barely meets expectations"—something I could've avoided if I slept with my VP, but I liked to believe I had an unshakeable moral ground. I wouldn't be too sad
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Short Fiction
The Sweet Striper
The children don't understand.
The sweets they pine for are not squeezed from the machine with stripes intact. No—they must be painted on, by hand, with so much care. It is almost unimaginable, the ... [+]
The sweets they pine for are not squeezed from the machine with stripes intact. No—they must be painted on, by hand, with so much care. It is almost unimaginable, the ... [+]
Short Fiction
Counting on the Waves
He didn't see the woman standing next to him until her face, white and round as the moon, was peering into the car. Her gray hair, long and thin, danced in the wind.
Her hand moved in circles ... [+]
Her hand moved in circles ... [+]
Short Fiction
Birds, Circling, Everywhere
Tomorrow will mark a year since I had my stroke. It's an occasion that, according to my daughter, Ginny, I should view as important. But I've spent enough time staring at death; I don't want to think
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Short Fiction
My Horse of a Different Color
It was the summer of '82, my first year at Saint Vincent's. I'd just arrived in the city, a newly minted nurse from the Midwest, and taken an apartment on Perry Street with three other nurses. He was
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Short Fiction
The Identification of Bears
"Do you like Sunshine Bear?"
Becca scowls down at her white shirt emblazoned with a smiling bear—at the long, bony finger inches away from her skinny chest.
"It's Funshine Bear," she says. She ... [+]
Becca scowls down at her white shirt emblazoned with a smiling bear—at the long, bony finger inches away from her skinny chest.
"It's Funshine Bear," she says. She ... [+]
Short Fiction
The Guerrillas' Rucksacks
Within a few weeks of her escape, the girl outgrew her only dress and had nothing to wear. Trying not to make a fuss, I gave her something of mine. She thanked me. She looked so ashamed. That she, a
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Short Fiction
The Story Tree
When I was a kid, I was very nervous about what I would be when I grew up. It honestly consumed me. I was constantly trying new things so I could see what felt right. At seven years old, I begged my
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Short Fiction
Four-Leaf Clover
The four-leaf clover should not have been there, caught in Esteban's hair. It was a surprise there was any clover at all. The cows had already been through twice that week, pulling at the remnants of
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Short Fiction
Channel Five
"Are you scared?" I ask Dad over the phone.
"What do I have to be scared about?" he says. "We're locked in our rooms."
He's always been tough like that, stoic, but I wish I could see his face, hug ... [+]
"What do I have to be scared about?" he says. "We're locked in our rooms."
He's always been tough like that, stoic, but I wish I could see his face, hug ... [+]