Stories tagged short-story

The Artist's Conk

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Whenever talk dies, or darkness gathers too closely around the breakfast table, everyone knows the list of ritual activities we can brightly suggest to skip the day forward.

The Color of Silence is Radium Green

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...the teeth she began to lose went under her pillow, though no money ever appeared. She could not bear to throw them away and finally deposited them in her jewelry box next to the string of seed pearls she received on the morning of her confirmation.

An Incarcerated Life

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The ruling stipulated that the plaintiff be allowed to return to her prison cell at once and that this residence henceforth be considered permanent. Leila smiled a lottery smile and then she returned home to the dampness, to the walls flaking and the flak

Magic Jane

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This is what magic feels like. Excitement. Clarity. Danger. Justice.

Outside a Café in Paris

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I would like to mention here, in recounting this memory, my companion is French but he is also very young--as all idealists should be. He exhaled a curl of blue smoke and his cigarette sizzled out on the sidewalk before us.

Meet Virginia

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We might have been old friends or lovers or both. We were like a pair of old secrets that had never really met, reacquainting.

No Tears For Crying

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It was a little after ten on a quiet night but Ice didn't care about the time. Ten o'clock or eleven o'clock didn't matter much either way. All he needed…

Death Comes To Visit

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He was almost dying when I reached the hospital. I walked past the open automatic sliding doors into the lobby, almost vacant except a few people milling around, the nurses fighting sleep behind the desks while waiting for their shift to end.

Hanging By A Moment

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It's come down to this: you're a grown man afraid to face his own son. For the past few years there has been tension;…

500 Years and Back

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Steven will probably quit when he gets to the new office. He’ll probably never even make it all the way there. Instead, he’ll leave a Steven-shaped hole in the side of the building that maintenance will never get around to patching up.

Pineapple Juice

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He always sat at the same table, underneath one of the umbrellas, his legs stretched out to their full extent. The man would sit like this, not sleeping, but not doing anything, except sipping on a pineapple juice that the waiter would refill several time

Stop Short

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SoCo, Burnette's, Grey Goose, Bacardi. The good stuff. We drank Bill’s stuff because his parents were lawyers and loved to drink too. We just drank when everyone was asleep. Sometimes we’d invite our friends, or girls—but mostly it was just us. You could

Hello Cheryl

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“Hello, Cheryl” the voice on the other end of the phone replied. It was strong but raspy, yet quiet and controlled. The fellow sounded like he had a frog in his throat. “How do you know my name?” she asked. “I know a lot of things about y

I love my husband, Dave.

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She could have decided right then that she couldn’t go on with it anymore, and I heard it.

arrow head

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Golden arrows that used to point forward, left or right, spin directionless on what used to be empty white walls.