Stories tagged fathers-and-sons

The Plinktonians

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Brian had spent the morning filling out applications all over Knox County, and by noon he was more than ready to call it a day. But apparently there was one last squirt of virtue in him, because heading home he saw a Help…

Banana Snake

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Each boy held a stick, nudging at something at their feet. Yuudai moved toward them, the burned grasses crunching like a cow eating heartily.


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Waking in the middle of the night, tangled in the hotel sheets, I wanted to hear the story again: their pilot friend, the war, his specialty. "It's just a screw, son," Dad said, "nothing exotic."

The Last Highway

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The road winds left then right, dips and climbs, you might be making progress, might not. Then all of a sudden, you come to a long, gradual rise. The ground is clear, hardscrabble: blueberry

Irreversible Dad

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"It's irreversible."

The Inheritance of Man

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And in the night the wild dogs bayed and snarled and rooted out your father’s corpse. The carcass hauled across the moonlit field while you stood waist deep in the grasses.


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Just parts of a face mostly overlooked...

How I Feel About My Father

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Night after night, the sound of water sloshing in the tub. The curve of his pale, freckled back. The smell of him afterward—Zest, Prell, his still-damp skin—as he sits on the edge of the bed, reading Robinson Crusoe to my brother and me.

Photographs of My Father

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In this one he looks like me. In this one he looks like my brother. In this one he is taking my mother to the Christmas dance at school and she looks like Jackie Kennedy.

Dealer's Field

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The bones in his shoulder vibrated against the muscles.

Good Behavior

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The coyotes howled and yipped and barked, and Max thought he could make out individual voices—five or seven of them, maybe more. He kept his eyes on the woods east of the lake, looking for them, for movement. In the moonlight the leafless trees—Sid Miller

Imparting Shots

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He knows why I’m here, so he stalls, talking about the coffee, about how it’s a new dark blend from a little shop in The Village, about how he loves the flavor, so rich, but just because a coffee is dark doesn’t mean it’s stronger, that, in fact, it’s the