Stories tagged lit

One Question

279279 views55 comments11 fav

Every night during the ten o'clock news, he asks, “You ready to go to bed yet?” I say, “Yep,” but don't add: Just like last night and the night before, and the night before that. For thirty years.

ANYTHING FOR JOHNNY

10261026 views11 comment00 favs

After nine months, I was granted early parole...

HOMONYMS

597597 views44 comments22 favs

Madison was not stupid, just uncultured. She knew nothing of England, but decided to travel from New York to Warwickshire to see Shakespeare's grave. She hoped to capture some sort of magic from seeing the playwright's tomb...

SMALL THINGS

10011001 views11 comment11 fav

I held at my gut and immediately regretted laughing at Frank when he pulled the pocket-knife out on me. I doubled over and fell to the floor. "John, was a typer all this important?" Frank asked, knife in hand.

PROMISES

915915 views00 comments00 favs

There was a bird on the windowsill, a sparrow, its silhouette backlit by a view of Uptown. She remembered many sparrows during her forced trips to Mercy Hospital...That was all over now...

WILD

837837 views11 comment11 fav

Most days you couldn't win; the constant nag from the fact that it was all a game was your only comfort. I was at the unemployment office again. The gal at the counter'd seen me enough to know when the printer was out of ink so she could walk away.

AWAY

149149 views00 comments00 favs

Since high school. It'd been that long. Donald had shared five classes with Julia—or was it six? If home-ec counted, then it was six. It was the same period, but they were never together because the classes were split with boys and girls—and were each voted Most…

PERSUASION

978978 views44 comments33 favs

A story about convincing people to do things they don't want to do, written entirely in dialogue; originally published by CHEAP POP.

Forks, Knives, Spoons, So On

270270 views2020 comments1616 favs

There is a small gap between the kitchen sink and the wall. I’ve dropped, over time, all our forks down there. They cannot be retrieved. We eat with our hands now.

EFFORT

852852 views00 comments00 favs

From outside it looked abandoned. We lived at the top of a dead end hill. The grass was high and brown, the bricks in the driveway were crooked, caved in. The winter was mild; rotten crabapples, half-frozen, lined the end of the road. This was my house.