Stories tagged boston

Dear Caddy

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I would advise the younger you to change your underpants, and not to let those boys do the talking for you.

The Gourmand

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The Gourmand slowly led the way / And her assistants followed, / Pulling coolers full of delicacies in her wake, / Pausing at twenty-foot intervals as she stopped to breathe.

Turbo Curry

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In many respects Boris was a totally normal camel. He enjoyed eating blueberry French toast, swimming at the YMCA, and playing badminton. You know -- normal camel stuff. However, Boris wasn't a normal camel. Boris was ghost. That's right: a ghost camel!

Please Come to Boston? (Memoir)

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I've been invited to speak at Emerson College in Boston—it will be the summer of 2012, and I'll be speaking on running an online literary magazine; in this case, my own,

Burrito Porn

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A humboldt squid flies through the air above Newbury Street. Seawater drips from its tentacles. The squid soars gracefully, like a fleshy torpedo, around lamp posts and buildings. Occasionally it swoops down to earth.

3 Short Shorts

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When he tried to kiss her, she ran to the bathroom to throw up.


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Abby sat on the slate floor of the strange kitchen and gagged: Mr. Titters's end had precipitated a surge of diarrhea—frothy, moist, and impossible to expunge entirely from the white carpet, as if he had became an icing tube in…

Half Baked Ghazal

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They called him Kid Avalanche, interrupted by the fallen

There's No Place Like Home

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That's gross.

So Comes Love

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Her students read their work aloud in class, haltingly, sometimes proudly, and their willingness amazed Miriam. They were immigrants and retirees, carpenters, security guards, Indian nannies, Iranian escapees. She loved their odd word choices, the lack of editorial impulse.…

Upstairs on Montague Street

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Benton showed her his old room, a shrine of old posters and records. But it had been cleaned out, made to look like a guest room. “Kiss me,” Benton said. “April.” “That was just a name, so don't get any…

Good For The Ducks

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It's dawn. It's quiet on the pond in the Public Garden. The light is calm, the pollution is mild, and everything is still,except for the occasional cruising taxi. It's the beginning of spring-- tulips out, leaves…

Angel Bilodeau

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Angel walked out of some small burg near Lowell one night, hasn't gone back and except for her father threatening over the phone to come down to Boston and drag her back by a fistful of black hair, hasn't had any visitors pleading with her to straighten o

The Bombs & Blood of Texas & Boston

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Running into the fire, the smoke and the chaos; selfless first responders, innocent bystanders, and dedicated runners