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Over the Hills and Far Away

Over the Hills and Far Away - story

Mary Webb

Margaret Mahuntleth, in the corner of the big settle, basked in the hearth-glow like one newly come to heaven. Warm light reddened her knitted shawl, her white apron, and her face, worn and frail. It…

The Fulness of Life

The Fulness of Life - story

Edith Wharton

    I For hours she had lain in a kind of gentle torpor, not unlike that sweet lassitude which masters one in the hush of a midsummer noon, when the heat seems to have…

The Invisible Girl

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…

The Golden Apple Tree

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 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…

Silver Pistols

Silver Pistols - story

Liliana Lara

How could Edgardo have hunted an animal if he didn’t even know how to love, much less kill. He’d become a useless idler, sitting all day in front of the television set or on the…

Buy Two Get One Free

Buy Two Get One Free - story

Tal Nitzán

In my other life I lived in a suburb of Ohio or Michigan with Paul-Marc, my husband, and the child. The houses were planted on manicured lawns that stretched as far as the eye could…

Summer

Summer - story

Natalia Ginzburg

I was away from my children for a while. They’d gone to the seaside with my sister and my mother, I stayed in the city, my mother was angry at me because I wrote and…

After Arbor Day

After Arbor Day - story

Ruth Almog

At the beginning of winter my father fell ill and took to his bed. He lay in bed for a long time with his bedroom door closed, and we would walk around the house on…

The Thief

The Thief - story

Sharron Hass

The last item on the shopping list was bread. Two o’clock in the afternoon. August. And the insistence to walk all the way to the bread shop. Specification is the sign of affluence and civilization;…