Stories tagged novel-excerpt

Three Palms

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People in Hollywood are a lot like you and me, only more so.

From Ho Chi Minh City with Love: The Revision

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I shall meet you on the terrace of that famed Bamboo Bar, the one you say will remind me of a posh African restaurant. I do not think this is a good thing. I should not have to remind you, I came here to forget Africa.

"To Kill!"

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“What … is the purpose … of the bayonet?”

I didn't know Nostradamus played in McNamara's band (Chapter one)

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You remember angelus bells like measures of moments, partitions between hope and despair.

"Walk with me."

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You think it’s really too bad that life is not like film.

Chapter 2 - A day at the beach

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She’s young, delicate, slim, very pretty, even in death. Her single wound is ugly. One side of her face is beautiful, the other side is missing.

Sex Ed With Barbie and GI Joe

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As soon as I discovered that nasty thing the grownups called “sexuality,” I just knew it would get me in a lot of trouble some day—with Jesus, my parents and some yucky boy—so I hid it. But my Mama and Daddy noticed my sinful sexiness way before I knew I

Fascination

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It rained on the morning of the party, and the weatherman promised it would continue throughout the day. But Marilyn didn't mind. She actually preferred entertaining in bad weather. Her rugs weren't valuable enough to worry about, and the gloomier the sky

The Sun from Under Water

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There was a thing she liked to do in the pool—after running and sweating—and that was to exhale as much air as she could stand, then hold her nose and sink to the bottom and just look up at the surface of the water, the way the sun hit it, the way the liq

Getting Sideways On Douglas

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Under the dirty orange glow of sodium streetlights, the glistening pavement looks slick, but it’s only just wet. The mid-November temperature is cool—quite mild, actually, for this late time of year—still hovering in the upper 30s—so far posing only the

Things You Can Do, Some Can't Be Done

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The deep breathing has helped. My heart rate is back down to a normal resting rate somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 to 60 beats per minute, about one solid thump every second like clockwork, a precision I can truly appreciate.

On the train to Otsu Station

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You will be wrong.

Ramona: That's What I Want!

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"I wanna be a lady who lunches, with a hubby who munches!" I proclaimed to the shocked denizens of Nutley’s newest café. My index fingers V’d over my lap, where dream hubby would kneel and do his duty, preferably while I sampled Mario Batali’s tasting me

The Cirque Phase of Carlos Mendoza

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Am I making sense here?

Three Thirds

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"I was hit by an Amtrak train and dragged a hundred feet, and I'm going to die from smoking cigarettes."