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Two Royalists in Quatorze Juillet (a chapter from “An Iraqi in Paris”) - story
Samuel Shimon
The waiter at the Café Au Chai de l’Abbaye, Claude, asked me to finish my drink quickly. It was a quarter past two in the morning and he had to close up the café. I…

The Invisible Girl - story
Mary Shelley
This slender narrative has no pretensions to the regularity of a story, or the development of situations and feelings; it is but a slight sketch, delivered nearly as it was narrated to me by one…

Meaning of Ends - story
Martha Witt
This version of the story is in English. In Milan. Standing tiptoe on the edge of a king-sized bed. She is shutting a window cut into the slant of the ceiling. She is naked. It…

The Golden Apple Tree - story
Virna Sheard
THIS story happened a long time ago in the country where anything may happen. The people who belong to that country stay there, and nothing can induce them to journey beyond its borders. Also, very few…

The Beautiful Thieves - story
Martin Kluger
Later in the night he saw, strangely, the picture of himself as he had been before she came. He thought: ‘She has power to wake the dead.’ –Karen Blixen, “Tempests” Airport, present day, night-time In…

An Episode in the Life of Marshal de Bassompierre - story
Hugo von Hofmannsthal
At a certain point in my life, my services entailed crossing the little bridge across the Seine (for the Pont Neuf was not yet built at that time) at a certain hour several times a…

We Were Fishing For Rockets - story
Karen Köhler
1 You pressed your Nazi grandfather’s signet ring into my hand and asked me to throw it in the sea or some other body of water. Because you couldn’t. And I said: I’m not doing…

Rustic Chivalry - story
Giovanni Carmelo Verga
Turiddu Macca, the son of mistress Nunzia, when he came home from being a soldier, every afternoon strutted about the piazza with his bersagliere uniform and his red cap, that looked like a fortune-teller’s when…

Half-Measures - story
Ángel Zapata
I was pretty worn out that night, but to me the red mark on Concha’s shoulder looked like a hickey and I said so. “This, you mean?” she asked, pointing to the mark without taking…

The Garden - story
Luis Negrón
Sharon took advantage of the fact that we were washing the dishes to tell me she had been thinking about the day when Willie, my lover, would no longer be with us. “I can’t stop…