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The Dead - story
James Joyce
Lily, the caretaker’s daughter, was literally run off her feet. Hardly had she brought one gentleman into the little pantry behind the office on the ground floor and helped him off with his overcoat than…
Autumn (A Fairy Tale) - story
Leah Goldberg
On dark, stormy nights they would run through the sleeping streets, burning torches in their hands, and no one saw their faces and no one knew their names. And the echoes of the steps of…
None So Blind - story
Joe Haldeman
It all started when Cletus Jefferson asked himself “Why aren’t all blind people geniuses?” Cletus was only 13 at the time, but it was a good question, and he would work on it for 14…
The Photographer - story
Muhammad Hamad
The death of my grandfather, Abu Kamel, God rest his soul, felt like the end of an era. I used to see him as my link to the past, that distance that stretches all the…
Down the Path - story
Juan Cárdenas
Almost, almost there, but not quite. Something woke me up. A noise. I’m dripping wet, but I didn’t get there. I’m still half asleep. Nearly, but not quite. The wind is blowing through the coffee…
The Last Thing We Need - story
Claire Vaye Watkins
July 28 Duane Moser 1077 Pincay Drive Henderson, Nevada 89015 Dear Mr Moser On the afternoon of June 25 while on my last outing to Rhyolite, I was driving down Cane Springs Road some ten…
Possible Paths - story
Margarita Iov
I write: Vera’s coat has a button missing – the dog got it. She looks over my shoulder. One day he’ll get me, too, says Vera, you’ll see. I say: Don’t be silly. The dog…
Milkface - story
Jan Snela
It was a Wednesday and time for my milk bath. But the light white liquid in angular packs – sucked from udders in farmyards, purloined from bovines, diversely digested from greenest grasses for calves, stirred…
It’s Me - story
Kristina Schilke
The Sankt Johannesweide Psychiatric Outpatient Clinic encompasses spacious grounds. Patients have access to this Lower Bavarian gem among mental institutions from seven in the morning until six in the evening, five days a week. For…
The Dancer - story
Yehudit Hendel
I used to meet him sometimes in the street or in the park opposite my house. Over the years we became friends in a way, and he would nod to me as old friends do,…
