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Cannibalism In The Cars

Cannibalism In The Cars - story

Mark Twain

I visited St. Louis lately, and on my way West, after changing cars at Terre Haute, Indiana, a mild, benevolent-looking gentleman of about forty-five, or maybe fifty, came in at one of the way-stations and…

Jabir Sabeel

Jabir Sabeel - story

Mansour Mohammad El Souwaim

1.   Citizen Jabir Sabeel awoke to the alarm of his Nokia mobile phone at exactly 6:05. He tried, like every morning, to cover his face with a pillow, but he felt an awful weakness….

Ballet

Ballet - story

Federico Falco

The blinds are pulled down; the old couple who live opposite must be on holiday. Before, the old woman would come out every morning to water the plants on her balcony. The old man would…

The Pink Tuber

The Pink Tuber - story

Vladimir Sorokin

On Thursday Anna found out that she was pregnant. When she came home from work, she didn’t start dinner but instead sat at the tiny kitchen table, put her gaunt hands on the new oilcloth,…

Headless

Headless - story

Karen Brennan

I was on my way to the bus stop when I saw the headless man. At first I thought it was a trick of the eye: I was wearing big dark glasses, possibly the head…

Produce

Produce - story

Sarah Gerkensmeyer

I’ve started grocery shopping at one of the new, big places that takes up an entire city block, but claims to support the envi­ronment and our health and world peace and all of that. It’s…

The Gift

The Gift - story

Iftach Alony

There are those who invent lies, and there are those who believe them. In an ideal world Jerry would spread his wings and fly away from there. For as long as he can remember himself,…

R.A. Looks for his Eyes

R.A. Looks for his Eyes - story

Sheikha Hussein Helawy

(From Letters to the Editor) We chose this letter amongst hundreds of letters that the newspaper receives. The reader preferred to sign his letter with R.A.; he asked for it to be published in the…

The Child

The Child - story

Antonia Baum

At home, in my flat, in the three neat and prettily decorated rooms belonging to me and nobody but me, lives a little child that torments me. We’re so attached by now that I can’t…

The Fat Girl

The Fat Girl - story

Marie Luise Kaschnitz

It was the end of January, not long after the Christmas holidays, when the fat girl came to me. That winter I had started lending books to the children from the neighbourhood, who were supposed…