When you first open your eyes, all you can see is the brightness. You don’t know what it is, but you feel your stubby fingers reach for that light. Pale clouds of cream dot your vision as you ... [+]
When you first open your eyes, all you can see is the brightness. You don’t know what it is, but you feel your stubby fingers reach for that light. Pale clouds of cream dot your vision as you ... [+]
Her shoes glare at me as I wait on the couch for him to pour the wine. Though she is absent her shoes fill the room with her presence. Jay and Marina’s apartment is quiet, and lushly decorated with ... [+]
I live in a train. I have food, warmth, a place to sleep.
I feel certain that I am its sole occupant, for if there were anyone else on it I would know by now, as I have lived in this train my
... [+]
It’s a Mexican thing. You have to be Mexican to understand the mixture of sadness, joy and resignation we associate with death. We don’t want to die, but we respect our relatives who have gone ... [+]
Sonny Ramsingh was an only child born of Indian parents who came from India as indentured labourers. They worked in the canefields of a small and picturesque Caribbean island until they gained thei ... [+]
Dora Terra-Mangle was a lion tamer in Leeds from 1947 until May 15th, 1960. That was the day of the catastrophe when Dora, at home in her family caravan near the big top, dropped her thick green ... [+]
For days at a time, he is underwater, although how many he can never be sure, floating just below where the sun or the moon or the crisscrossing searchlights of boats can penetrate and filter through ... [+]
It had been nearly fourteen years, but there you were on my morning commute. On your way to work like nothing had happened. Both of us on our ways to work as if nothing had happened.
You looked
... [+]
I reached for the control strip and tapped the edit icon. Immediately, the scene changed to a woodland, dark fir trees casting long shadows beneath a heavy winter sky. For background effect, I added ... [+]
When I get home from Sunday Service, I strip my pressed white shirt in the living room. I step out of my slacks. Peel off the tight black socks. I fumble naked for my dive skin, the black and blue ... [+]
When there is no water left, we'll leave. Until then, we ration what we pull from the well. Three-quarters of a bucket for drinking (a full one when the day gets above 90 degrees, which is happening ... [+]
There is no cheerful clatter of pans, or old Beatles records spinning in the living room. No warm cinnamon smell fills the air – only burnt coffee. For a moment, I'm half expecting Papa to swoop ... [+]
I quickly walk into the Amal School for Children, with my mother’s words on repeat in my head, “The quicker you get inside the school, Zahara, the better.” I make my way to the back row of ... [+]
The bell rang to end third period on the first day of school. I had one class left, English with Mr. Thorne. I met up with my friend Jeremy on the way to his room.
“Hey Stuart, are you going
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The liftoff is like an elevator.
You know that feeling you get when you're going up? Like your stomach is getting left behind? It feels like that. Remember when we were kids and we were staying
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