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The Amputated Arms

The Amputated Arms - story

Vilhelm Bergsøe

It happened when I was about eighteen or nineteen years old (began Dr. Simsen). I was studying at the University, and being coached in anatomy by my old friend Solling. He was an amusing fellow,…

Mr. Tallent’s Ghost

Mr. Tallent’s Ghost - story

Mary Webb

The first time I ever met Mr. Tallent was in the late summer of 1906, in a small, lonely inn on the top of a mountain. For natives, rainy days in these places are not…

Bull

Bull - story

Kathy Anderson

His father was now his mother but he was still an epic asshole. “He won’t even let me get a tattoo,” Josh said. “He gets his whole dick cut off and he won’t even let…

The Open Window

The Open Window - story

Saki

“My aunt will be down presently, Mr. Nuttel,” said a very self-possessed young lady of fifteen; “in the meantime you must try and put up with me.” Framton Nuttel endeavoured to say the correct something…

A Centimetre or Two a Year

A Centimetre or Two a Year - story

Matías Capelli

Six olives contain as many calories as a small steak. Could that be right? She’d read it out of the corner of her eye in a magazine belonging to a woman in a faded ski…

Yasha’s Eternity

Yasha’s Eternity - story

Anna Starobinets

Yasha Hein woke up while it was still dark – long before the alarm clock rang – because of a strange quietness that was filling him up from within. During the evening of the previous…

The Daughters of the Late Colonel

The Daughters of the Late Colonel - story

Katherine Mansfield

I The week after was one off the busiest weeks of their lives. Even when they went to bed it was only their bodies that lay down and rested; their minds went on, thinking things…

The Man Who Moved the Western Wall

The Man Who Moved the Western Wall - story

Uzi Weil

David Lugasi, I think, never knew how much he really loved the Western Wall until he saw it completely dismantled, stone by stone by stone, and piled onto the three trucks of his hauling and…

Flies

Flies - story

Eshkol Nevo

It was the last summer before they gave the Sinai back to Egypt. I was thirteen and I drove with my parents and their friends down to Ras Burka. I think that must have been…

John-Paul Finnegan, Paltry Realist

John-Paul Finnegan, Paltry Realist - story

Rob Doyle

When I think of Ireland, John-Paul Finnegan said as we stood on the deck of the ferry while it pulled out of Holyhead, I think of a limitless ignorance. And not just an ignorance, but…