the short story project


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Taqsim Hyena

Taqsim Hyena - story

Nir Soffer-Dudek

The day I moved from the city to the country my dog returned his spirit to the God who gave it. I do not know whether it was the shock of the move or just…

The Girl of his Dreams

The Girl of his Dreams - story

Sabrina Huang

He turned his computer off and on again six times, took his first shower of the week, and went downstairs for some cold noodles and a packet of cigarettes. Only then did he dare believe…

What You Looking at?

What You Looking at? - story

Tamar Merin

The light has turned green and my son shows no sign that he wants to cross the street. He won’t budge from the traffic island, his eyes squinting against the lashing sun, his hands on…

A Girl in the Café

A Girl in the Café - story

Ronit Matalon

To Tami Berger In the corner café that had recently changed owners stood a parrot’s cage. A green cage with a domed top, a swing fixed inside it, and a slot and small drawer at…

90 Ahad Ha’am

90 Ahad Ha’am - story

Yotam Reuveni

 In the summer of 1977, you moved to 90 Ahad Ha’am Street in Tel Aviv for one month. The summer was a real summer. There was no air-conditioning in 90 Ahad Ha’am. The entrance to…

The Kid

The Kid - story

Rave Sagie

Bitterness is a disease of old age; I aged early and by the time I was thirty six it had metastasized through every part of me. I loathed my past as much as I feared…

Gottfried Heinrich’s Dream

Gottfried Heinrich’s Dream - story

Jaume Cabré

It is music: it has come from a heart. J.S.B. At four in the afternoon the old man sat up in bed and said Kaspar, son, where are you? B flat, A, D flat, B,…

Previous Condition

Previous Condition - story

James Baldwin

I woke up shaking, alone in my room.  I was clammy cold with sweat; under me the sheet and the mattress were soaked.  The sheet was gray and twisted like a rope.  I breathed like…

An old story

An old story - story

Iftach Alony

I live in the dread of silence. But am I not the soundless of all? Grey, humped, rat-like monsters with reddened eyes shadow my life. I detect them. Recognize them. Catch their scent as they…


The JPEG - story

Rachel B. Glaser

At the end of the third week of April, Anna looked to her calendar and felt nothing for the retriever who’d started off the month with such vivacity. It had excessive hair, as usual, billowing…