Most read stories

Van Gogh: Sidewalk Cafe at Night

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The heart of those stars is a dab of yellow light. The darkness of the blue night appears so deep because the downward strokes of the actual sky are interspersed with a violet that’s almost black,

That's It

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I am heading to work. It's early and Clare is still asleep. When I hit the breezeway I realize that I forgot my keys. I walk back into the house and start rustling through the junk on the table by the door. After a moment I sense someone standing behind me and…

42 Mirrors

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What becomes the identity of a woman who has been denied all her rights and thrown into a mental institution?

The Mermaid's Revenge

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Lapping salt beads from/ my crackling, ecstatic lips.

Wink

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It's just another night in the old city, perched in the skeletal radio tower with my collection of telescopes

Human Spirit - a poem

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It feels for an exit.

Falling Off The Roof

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"As the thing lurches upright, I can see now that it is an old woman with snake eyes… a dead old woman with snake eyes and peeling flesh. She is putrid and maggoty. She is coming right at us. She is my mother."

Ruins

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The camera moves slowly around the interior of a building inhabited by books.

On being offered a seat on the Bart train

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Remember when I entered a room and turned heads is my youthful charm a sputtering fire in the hearth

Parallels

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“I honestly can't believe how much you eat, honey.”, Lenora said as I put down the fork after gorging myself on breakfast. Twelve pancakes, four eggs, two cups of coffee, a glass of milk, and half a pound of bacon had passed through my lips this morning. …

Dump like no other.

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Their dump was like no other in the country. It was bigger than the rest. And, unlike their innumerable competitors, this dump—which sat packed with trash on the surf of an ocean—was organized with care.The Elks took pride in their dump. Three…

Processes

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How to Boil Water How to Cook an Egg How to Eat How to Think How to Love How to Die

A note from Liu Xiabo

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I think about the weight of those words—how they are silenced by the weight of stone, by the weight of 11 years in a Jinzhou prison cell,

Rio, 1946

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Now his daughter was an American citizen and Max wanted only the chance to board the SS Maua and disembark in New York.

Abject Horror of Objects (ELECTRIC DELIRIUM 1.8)

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Rosey streaks through the city, dragging a flooded umbrella.

Agnés and Albertine

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Albertine had never loved Agnés. Oh! She had liked her very much. Especially her wit, the skin at the nape of her neck, even the two freckles on her arse that would bloom when licked.

Time Flies

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Time has wings. They are bright and beautiful, like those of a butterfly. They are delicate wings, and they carry the years away from my decaying mind. I would break those wings if I could, for tomorrow I turn seventy-three, and I grow weary of their ince

A Quandry

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On the river he rows a dory. It is filling with water. There is a rectangular hole in the bottom.

THE CAPTION CHANGES BUT THE PICTURE STAYS THE SAME

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When he leaves herThe weather is glorious of courseUnblinking sunshineHe walks awayShe touches the edge of his sleeve I touch his sleeveBlack jacket flung over his shoulder Black jacket over his…

A Brief Conversation With A Man Who Fell Off a Cliff

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I asked him where he hurt and he said everywhere.

God's Vial

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The porous bear the anchorite’s vial

Small Talk

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Her fingers scampered over the table, practicing the deft stitching of the basilar artery.

Badface Investigates - Fighting

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I’m lying on the floor curled up in the foetal position and about six people are stamping on me. [...] It’s really confusing down here, what with all the kicking.

The Rite and Wrong of Passage

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My sadistic doctor was the only one laughing . Yes sir, I was officially, cordially, confirmed to meet that Irish/ Russian fellow…Colon Oscopy.

Not Even Know It

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I remember the man well, though he didn't notice me.Even though a million tiny things happened to cause his hand to brush me away from his neck, he didn't notice. Much like the way his eyes bounced off women's bodies as he hurried down the sidewalk in his blue wool…

i found this.

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Home is where my parents live and my relatives visit.

Conditions of a Narrator

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Moore doubted, perhaps, that readers could sympathize with a man who had killed someone for a cause or a girlfriend who forgave him. Perhaps she felt that maiming is (not) worse than murder. Perhaps she decided that the story should be about that.

Marion Winik Has Kissed A Lot Of Frogs

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Writer Marion Winik has ridiculously bad taste in men. She's an intelligent woman and a terrific writer, a good mom with a good heart, and ALL of her romantic relationships are train wrecks.Winik recounts her quest for love at age 50 in her new book, “Highs In The Low…

Losing Things

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I infuriate myself with this gift.

1053

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She pulled into the doorway. Uncertain where to spend the night. Certain there'd once been a place with food. Here. This place. She remembered. Curtains. Small tables. Coffee cups thick-handled and sturdy. Crockery. Some words came back.