Stories tagged story

The Grinder

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"For several days thinking they had found a dead man’s boot beside the highway..."

Suicide Draft

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So, dear world, whose dearness I have never truly known, I bid you adieu.

Flowers for Our Dead Lovers

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We brought flowers for our dead lovers

The Fortune of an Accident

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Staring at her horribly disfigured face, I envied her.


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At this, he looked at me out of his dull, milky eyes. He blew the air out of his cheeks.

Our Time as Men

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Rhonda looks guilty as it is, don’t you think? That hair! And the unhappiness smeared across her face like war paint after a war.


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The rain pelted down, it got dark, and they couldn't see a thing. The wind roared like a thousand locomotives.


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Tokyo is the dream we never had.

Still Crazy After All These Years

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Dr. van Roos reminded the group that trauma is trauma...

Powdered Sugar on Bare Skin

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At first I thought maybe I was dreaming, or hallucinating from the lack of sleep and a high altitude. I peered out of the small window and thought I saw a man walking stark naked along a path maybe twenty feet from my trailer. He walked briskly into a one

Butterfly, Butterflown

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Erik Amré watches a butterfly advance against the breeze in Boston. Erik fears metamorphosis because he cannot foreknow what he'll become, yet he fears what he has become: adrift and a disappointment to the memory of his students and…

An association game with the word 'guilt' (or how (not) to die inside)

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The past operates with incredible gravity. Powerful, efficient, deceptive. Thin, sleek cords sent out by it attach themselves to your back, your legs, your buttocks, the back of your head. Resist. Walk. One leg after another. Easy does it, like a baby. Do

Old Friends Getting Older

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I just amuse myself by buying old guns and refurbishing them in my basement as I listen to old Bohemian polkas on cassettes.

A Black Night

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The hairs on my arm lift with the breeze; a haunting breath from the open window carrying night-scented stock from the black-shrouded garden.

The Other Side

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That was the first time I went over the wall. No bird opened its mouth to chirp. No wind blew. I staggered a little on the stony edge. And dropped down. I changed in a cafe. Shaved. Emerged as that rare thing: a new man. My clothes were old, saved for