A new kind of literary pulse

p style="margin: 0in; margin-bottom: .0001pt;">“In their search for ‘devil’s gold,’ as they call it, about 300 miners make a daily climb two miles up the mountain, then head downward more... [+]

They went out for a coffee and then the next night went out for dinner and the next they didn’t go anywhere but to her apartment where they had a massively wonderful night in bed. The sex was... [+]

I got the idea from one of your old stories. Building golems out of river mud and whatnot. Except I didn’t want a golem. I just wanted you back by my side.
Peddling clayware in the sweltering... [+]

I sat staring deep into the flames, listening to voices stirring the wind around me. Soft footfalls pressed through the grass stalks, rustling gently. Though I couldn't see them, I knew they were... [+]

Aunt Mila was the one collecting the eggs every morning but the chore is now mine. We have an extra daily egg since she has flown off and Grandma uses them to bake a cake every other day. Grandpa... [+]

While pulling lobster pots from the bay, Finn chanced upon the mermaid. His mind was on Jenny, dark with worry, when the mermaid appeared alongside his boat. An old friend once told him of a legend... [+]

1. Octopuses have nine brains.
Me? I wouldn’t want so many organs with which to overthink and fly into hysterics. You always ran from those—took the car and left me alone for hours, sometimes... [+]

Once you become visible, it’s hard to disappear into the shadows again, but Hank White was doing his level best. His life depended on it. People looked right through you when you were flipping... [+]

“Who are you?” her mother asked.
“I’m your daughter, Alice.”
“I know that. But I mean, who are you?” Her mother’s eyes locked onto hers; she was clutching Alice’s eyes. What... [+]

Rule Number 1: When asked about your parentage, give suitably vague answers.
 
It was Jimmy Doogan, a boorish kid with freckles spread like flak across his face, who had been the first to... [+]

When did my heart harden? How did empathy slip away? Dr. Lindelson pondered these questions in the spacious office where she had practiced psychotherapy for forty years, since she completed he... [+]

My father was a somniloquist; he only talked to me in his sleep. Lured at night by his one-sided conversation one room over, I would escape the cot I’d grown out of, gaze at my sleeping mothe... [+]