Stories tagged short-story

Disengaged

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The closest I've come to a passionate encounter in the last two decades was with Henry, and he died soon after we met. The men I love die and, even if they live, my daily rituals are becoming too all-consuming for me to entertain distracting and emotive pastimes such as…

We Don't Need a Guitar Man

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The courtroom smelled a lot like mold and it was hot as you could imagine. I sweated through my shirt and wondered if he wasn’t dying under his robe. He looked down at me from his bench and I just knew he was going to call me a commie and sentence me to l

COLLEAGUES, ACQUAINTANCES SUSPECT MARK ZUCKERBERG IS A MASKED VIGILANTE

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COLLEAGUES, ACQUAINTANCES SUSPECT MARK ZUCKERBERG IS A MASKED VIGILANTE

Everything to do with you

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I don't know, I could go on all day with these little niches he found in every person that made them at least a little interesting. Everyone collects baseball cards.

Voronezh. Samara. Tyumen.

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They have a saying in Russia: Live in Voronezh, work in Samara, die in Tyumen. In honour of Saint Rose, born on the banks of the Voronezh, fed the hungry and the poor of Samara, torn apart by wolves in Tyumen on the exact date that she had herself predict

Regarding Hank

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Won't speak a word against 'em. Car trunk stunk like bad chicken long after, but I won't speak a word against 'em.

How to Tell if Your Loved One Belongs in the Booby Hatch

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It is well known around town that Ray's dad went crazy. Today, when asked, everyone will tell you that they knew all along he had a screw loose, told their wife, “That Mick Borkowski's gone bat-shit.” But when it was happening, no one paid it any…

Airman

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Tent City has gone quiet. There is a deadline. I heard it on the news. I’ve never thought about the word before. How in this place it means what it means.

Escape

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Miranda tripped, and her folio went flying through the air, above the sidewalk, near the Cathedral. All her scores went fluttering into the trees like dozens of white doves coming to rest in the leaves and limbs. Some of them caught the wind, and went cir

Mermaid

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She went right by, picked up the waiting Grande, no foam, soy. Not heels: boots. The kind of skirt men only see in visions. The blouse looked like silk, the pearls seemed real. Too early to tell. Hermès, no hat. Her hand bore the trademark beret.

Chincoteague

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When I say she's magic, no-one ever believes me. They expect a mist swirling around her, a face wrapped in light, rays on her gown, or a woman rising naked from the foam, a fire stirring near her when she stirs. But it's not like that at all. It's a small

On the Way to Slab City

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The big yellow arrow on the Never Lost pulled us toward a penny-shaped disc, our destination, an intersection, a crossroads, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. We pulled down the road; past two home hair salons and a house with the garage door half-open;

Scene Change

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The same prompt girl mingled with us at intermission. We stood around, drinking cheap wine at three fifty a cup. I was wrongly dressed, the women were flowers of gems and silk. They looked right through me: they looked at her.

The Colour of Love

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I carried him home, all blood and brains, and set him in the ground. Is that love, George?

Carré Setting

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There would be dancing and music, stolen laughter underneath the lanterns, a thousand betrayals and scenes of forgiveness before midnight. But not yet.