Stories tagged short-story

40 Minutes (Revised)

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He’s running so fast he can feel the sharp sides of the gravel puncture the soles of his shoes. His eyes scan the dirt road for his car. He repeats, over there ten times in his mind. He’s got to find it. Quickly.

The Girl in the Storm

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There once was a girl who was lost in a storm. She wandered this way and that, this way and that, trying to find a way home. But the sky was too dark, and the rain too fierce; all the girl did was go in circles. Then, suddenly, there were arms around her

Silence For Yes

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Karina used to point at boys on the street and tell me if they were Puerto Rican or Dominican, like those were the only two things you could be. One time she pointed out a Puerto Rican boy and I said, “Oh, like your father, Julio.” She stopped walking

Teenage want

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I want him to kiss me even if it feels like being licked by a fish.

Trouble on Kangaroo Island

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On an overcast Thursday evening in June, some kangaroos met up after work to chill out.


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The next time you come home and catch your wife in bed with a same-sex caregiver, the thing to do is open all the windows and call Animal Control. You may be tempted to remove the irritants yourself, but depending on where you live it's probably illegal.

Glass Handcuffs

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I drown my sorrows in the wee hours with illiterate, tattooed, pierced men like David while imagining both my husband and father, bound with gaffer's tape, watching in horror from a cage atop the dresser.


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And there it sits. One made-in-Hong-Kong-King-Kong of a ding-dong. An eight inch monstrosity, perfectly and permanently erect. The adage 'eyes bigger than belly' comes to mind, or better yet, 'don't shop when hungry.'

A Night at the Plywood Palace

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You find a wall to lie down against and focus your eyes on an orange light. You no longer hear any music. You are lying down at the bottom of a dark, green, filthy pool, holding your breath and looking up at the sun.

The Beat of Sorrow

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See a girl like Lily sitting offstage in a wooden chair in a fourth-rate club somewhere, crying, holding on so hard to so little, and as it breaks your heart to watch; forgive me. Understand me. You can’t rescue us. We all deserve more.


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She's a nurse, plugging leaks, postponing via triage. I'm an engineer, watching essential systems shut down as my body buys extra minutes.


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Potato Mash

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Foxes haunted her dreams. Islands full of foxes, truckloads of vixen.


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Just because I’m suicidal doesn’t mean I don’t care about whacking my head on some service railing ten stories down. The fact that I’m going to jump doesn’t lessen my fear of propellers or a broken back.

The Club

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Even the stinging warmth of the Grey Goose wasn’t fun without Lisa whispering into his ear, telling him stupid little confessions that he would recite to her in singsong the day after. And she would beat her small fists against his chest solemnly with a