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Rooms

Rooms - story

Anna Likhtikman

His heart suddenly flipped over in his chest. “Just like a carp in the kitchen sink,” Grigory Katz thought. To calm himself down, he stuck his nose into his scarf and breathed in his own…

The Bowmen

The Bowmen - story

Arthur Machen

It was during the Retreat of the Eighty Thousand, and the authority of the Censorship is sufficient excuse for not being more explicit. But it was on the most awful day of that awful time,…

The Border-Line

The Border-Line - story

D.H. Lawrence

Katherine Farquhar was a handsome woman of forty, no longer slim, but attractive in her soft, full, feminine way. The French porters ran round her, getting a voluptuous pleasure from merely carrying her bags. And…

Incident on Cur Street

Incident on Cur Street - story

Alexander Grin

He looks like me and is the same height, but he appears to be a half-head taller – the cad. —From an old comedy As it happened, Alexander Golts came out of the vaudeville show…

The Square

The Square - story

Elisa R.V. García

Sunshine crept into the room, forming a white frame around the short dark curtain that barely covered the window. The glow around the darkened window reminded him of Malevich’s black square. He sighed. Vera would…

Yasha’s Eternity

Yasha’s Eternity - story

Anna Starobinets

Yasha Hein woke up while it was still dark – long before the alarm clock rang – because of a strange quietness that was filling him up from within. During the evening of the previous…

The Daughters of the Late Colonel

The Daughters of the Late Colonel - story

Katherine Mansfield

I The week after was one off the busiest weeks of their lives. Even when they went to bed it was only their bodies that lay down and rested; their minds went on, thinking things…

Sons

Sons - story

José Miguel Tomasena

1 I met Olegario and his son William in the town cantina. I’d been on the run for weeks, travelling drunkenly from one place to another. I slept in the car and ate when I…

After Arbor Day

After Arbor Day - story

Ruth Almog

At the beginning of winter my father fell ill and took to his bed. He lay in bed for a long time with his bedroom door closed, and we would walk around the house on…

John-Paul Finnegan, Paltry Realist

John-Paul Finnegan, Paltry Realist - story

Rob Doyle

When I think of Ireland, John-Paul Finnegan said as we stood on the deck of the ferry while it pulled out of Holyhead, I think of a limitless ignorance. And not just an ignorance, but…