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The Magic Shop - story
H. G. Wells
I had seen the Magic Shop from afar several times; I had passed it once or twice, a shop window of alluring little objects, magic balls, magic hens, wonderful cones, ventriloquist dolls, the material of…
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 - 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 - 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 - 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 - 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 - 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….
