Short Story
The Dark Spot
The dark spot is always there, or else it appears so early on in Winny’s life that she is unable to remember a time without it. It wades through the air, hovering over her mother’s shoulder when she is carried, swaying along beside her stroller when she is pushed. At night, it rocks her cradle. Winny learns to speak with abnormal speed, because of all the things it whispers to her. When she is old enough to know the difference between you and I, real and imaginary, she becomes acutely aware that no one else has ever seen the dark spot, or heard its voice.
By Jaye Nasir3 years ago in Fiction
The Wedding Toast
You’re looking at me like I’m nutzos. Here’s a guy in a tuxedo vest rooting around like a trash bandit. I promise there’s a good reason. Just give me a minute to explain. See that? You’re a total stranger and I felt the need to explain myself to you. That need happens to be what brought me to this point.
By Peter Wisan3 years ago in Fiction
The Amazing Instant Infant
“Customize your child!” The man on the screen announced excitedly. Dawna and Phil turned to the sound. They were a typical couple. She came from a Korean family. He was Nigerian, Phil Obasi was his full name. They’d been married for five years. They lived at 23 Cherry Tree, the street name and number of a tiny square of dirt, but, as Phil liked to say, it was all theirs and if you considered that their ring of land went straight through the earth, the sixteenth of an acre stretched into a thousand miles.
By Peter Wisan3 years ago in Fiction
We Can Never Run. We Can Never Hide.
"Run, Run, Run, that's all we ever do. Why can't we do something unconventional for a change?" Austria said as she threw her arms down. "Sweatheart, keep running, please, we are almost there–" my husband, Ian said before three IO guards rudely disrupted him.
By Ceo Of Dying3 years ago in Fiction
There's One Just Like it Everywhere
"Tell me a story, stranger." The guy on the opposite stool was a typical weekday drunk, full of good humor at the pain of others and caustic remarks at nothing at all. That he was polite to me was an oddity; perhaps he sensed that I was different, that I was less tethered to this place and its vices than those of his usual company.
By Andrew Johnston3 years ago in Fiction
The Man On The Train
Tap, tap, tap... The tapping was constant and annoying. Somehow it rose above all the chatter and clanking and rustling of the usual noise of the morning commuter train. She sat a bit straighter in her usual seat. A window seat with her briefcase placed on the empty seat next to her, looking at no one, speaking to no one. She always sat at the same seat on the same train 5 days a week to work and back,
By Susan Lewis3 years ago in Fiction
Lotus coming out of crystal-clear water
Once chatting with my old classmates, he said: "Looking at these greasy women around me reminds me of Tan Wenke's classmates. She is really a lotus in clear water." I can't help but sigh that this male student's words are really appropriate. "Lotus comes out of clear water" is often used by trendy love novels or small fresh meat to express the highest praise for girls. Such an abstract word falls into reality, only Tan Wenke.
By Gottlieb Lyle3 years ago in Fiction