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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…


Meningitis - story

Yitzhak Laor

Night has descended on the military headquarters. Darkness veiling the barracks like a dewy tarpaulin. A man’s shadow stretches from the top floor of the Ministry of Defense’s office like a large bird, then vanishes,…

A break in the Fence

A break in the Fence - story

Ariel Hirschfeld

Once I ran away. It was in kindergarten. I had known for some time that the fence between the schoolyard and the adjoining public park had fallen over. A thicket of oleander grew behind it….


Coffee - story

Gadi Taub

My father died at six in the evening. After the doctor told us the news, we went home. Ariane drove, and I sat next to her. Neither of us spoke. The taste of the coffee…


Faulkner - story

Edmundo Paz Soldán

After passing a sign that said they’d soon be entering Natchez Trace, Jorge told his father that it would be a good idea to stop for petrol before they entered the park. His father nodded….

Back then I was Just a Child

Back then I was Just a Child - story

Guillermo Fadanelli

Back then I was just a child, and children aren’t generally prejudiced, even if most of them don’t know why they’re sitting at their wooden desks with a satchel full of pencils and exercise books…

The Japanese Garden

The Japanese Garden - story

Antonio Ortuño

When I was nine years old, my father hired me a whore. A whore, logically, who was nine years old. I have forgotten the clothes, the toys, the food, everything that was my life at…

The Cold

The Cold - story

Augustin Cupsa

For the first few hours they drove silently. His father simply sat there without saying a word, just sniffling from time to time. It seemed to him that he was doing it ostentatiously. He could…

Genetic Material

Genetic Material - story

Christos Tsiolkas

I say, ‘Hi, dad, how are you doing?’ His eyes snap in my direction, there is a sudden jerk of his body as he recoils from my voice, then he slumps back in his chair….

The Pajamas

The Pajamas - story

David Albahari

The years have taken their toll: I wake up at night more often, and then, bereft of sleep, I go to the bathroom, perch on the bathtub, and stare at my reflection in the mirror….

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