Stories tagged language

Rabid Atween Da Erz

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yoo evva kizza rabid atween da erz? end chee siz NO end din yoo siz yoo wanna kizza rabid atween da erz? end chee siz OK end yoo pull yoo


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That summer crawled with them, insects of every denomination: cicadas caught by the cat, wingless, came to rest in the roots of the garden we planted; sudden swarms of dragonflies...


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Lise started making up words when she lost her voice.

Séjours linguistiques

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I linger and pretend that I’m not there, you find me in the end but I’ll not dare to speak the words I only know to write.

American Muscle

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The forest is ours, the sea belongs to the Brits and the Americans have heaven.


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The interpreter has dispelled the myth that H. sleeps with his baseball bat.

Going in Circles

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Once, I asked my father why Rex turned around three times before settling down for a nap. He told me it was because one good turn deserves another, then he laughed.

The Language

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You are an idiot when you do not speak the language in rivers.

An Episode of Boxes

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In this episode the children in the classroom will all wear boxes over their heads and will search the room with their hands. Their hands will be hands that have been reconnected. Their hands will wear seams as sleeves and curse in red. The hands that…

86 the Conversation: A Side of Flat Screen TV with Your Burger?

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This couldn’t be a bar; I was with my mother. It took a few seconds for the collision of senses to clear, and I realized the restaurant had not only one, but two flat screen televisions hung in their dining room, and a fake fire blazing in the fireplace.

High Jinks

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“Gorgonzolla!” The remnant croaked, his eyes wild as he thrust an open hand in Jaffron's direction. A burst of energy tilted Jaffron's pod on its axis and sent it hurtling backwards...

cuneus + forma

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the warnings we fear are the selfsame ones of ourselves of our vertical need to be first to the heights redoubling its intractable charm of production— our inheritance.

Bird Noises

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Let's buy this robin's egg blue furniture. Okay. Let's buy this album full of wren songs. Uh, okay.

Neruda's Answer

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A fist against a table made of sand

A Moment's Change

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Then he spoke of her cowardice, and from within, her heart fluttered and a soft heat branched out across her chest, face, and stomach pits and she felt imprisoned by that room.