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River of Honey, Lake of Milk

River of Honey, Lake of Milk - story

Ahmed Omar

Hadiya would visit us with her mother. On sunny days, we did our homework together under the grapevine; in winter, we did it by the stove. Her books were often torn: she didn’t like books…

What We’ve Become

What We’ve Become - story

Margarita Leoz

I remember it was almost summer, and I called from my office, between patients, to make the appointment. Paz had recommended a beauty salon that happened to be near my parents’ house. I made an…

Chaim and Me (A chapter from novel)

Chaim and Me (A chapter from novel) - story

Habib Sayah

Due to the imminent end of my summer break, and shortly before resuming my work at the Teacher Training College at the beginning of the third week of September, I reassured my wife, Zuleika al-Nadra,…

Its Name is ‘Bird’

Its Name is ‘Bird’ - story

Kamal Riahi

Jalal wasn’t happy unless he was wreaking havoc. He was the village’s fearsome little devil. At any time he might raid the neighbours’ chicken coops and rabbit hutches. Then we’d see him grilling the meat…

Lydia

Lydia - story

Zsuzsa Bánk

We used to jump, Lydia and I, as high and as often as we could, hands high over our heads, wearing colourful dresses, our knees pulled up, our feet in stout shoes we were allowed…

The Father Hole

The Father Hole - story

Andrea Lundgren

When Dad’s eyelids drop like a guillotine she pulls the car door shut with a click. He turns his gaze to the road, and from her shady spot in the backseat she can only see…

The UFO, The Beach, and The Dead

The UFO, The Beach, and The Dead - story

Fernanda Melchor

In the early nineties, The Beach of The Dead was little more than a greyish strip at one end of Boca del Rio, Veracruz’ twin city. Its burning sands were covered in spiny scrubs festooned…

A Pair of Eyeglasses

A Pair of Eyeglasses - story

Anna Maria Ortese

“As long as there’s the sun … the sun!” the voice of Don Peppino Quaglia crooned softly near the doorway of the low, dark, basement apartment. “Leave it to God,” answered the humble and faintly…

The Real Mother’s Song

The Real Mother’s Song - story

Geoff Schmidt

 “Win, win, win, win, win, win, win!!” was the incessant cry of our stepmother Sophie. It was the command that drove our household. She was a slight woman with a turned-up nose and a perky…

An Old-Fashioned Christmas

An Old-Fashioned Christmas - story

Richard Marsh

CHAPTER I–THE PROMISE   “An old-fashioned Christmas.–A lively family will accept a gentleman as paying guest to join them in spending an old-fashioned Christmas in the heart of the country.” That was the advertisement. It…