I waited at the top of his street. Two young boys were racing in go-karts. Every time they zoomed past the bottom lamppost, they hopped out and started up the ...
With fork and knife, thus armed he watched as she began to peel back the skin of the plaice with a delicate precision until its white flesh glistened, perfectly pearlescent, ...
The first thing the new neighbours do is erect a tall fence round their garden
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The house isn’t half empty without you.
About ...
A wild interview with a national icon.
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Her mother had been instructed to wait in the lobby, but had slipped in while Lucy was taking the test to determine how normal or abnormal she was.
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The audience members are on their feet, applauding with categorical enthusiasm.
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‘Shona Doesn’t Do Kids’ speaks of childlessness and office life. Quote: ‘Jade launches into a graphic account of her labour. The postman turns pale, hands back the baby..’
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Immerse yourself in these beautiful stories from our emerging writers who have been nominated for the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers competition!
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I know that my husband never knew anyone like Gretel or Hansel. His life was just different to mine, that’s all.
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Sooner or later, everyone has to hear their voice for the first time.
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The sun beats through the humid air, upon the stone and dirt streets. High cumulus clouds drift above the heavy-forest limestone mountains.
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Stream it or skip it? Stream it!
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When he woke, the house was still and flat. Like a sheet of paper.
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I call you again and hear nothing back. I cross through swirling motes caught in greenish rays, over the carpet that I swear squelches under my shoes, towards the bedrooms ...
On my doorstep a package. On the package no name but I’m pretty sure it’s from my mom even though she died 10 years ago today.
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I walk alone through the darkened campus, the moon lighting the gothic architecture, the classroom windows reflecting tree branches and shadows and loneliness.
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If I call you, you’ll say, hello, I’ll say, hi mum, it’s me, Catherine, then you’ll hang up.
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The train between Mexico City and Nuevo Laredo was called the Águila Azteca (Aztec Eagle). Within a year of this ride, this passenger train service – along with dozens upon dozens ...
An aspiring poet sat with me in Captain Quackenbush’s Intergalactic Dessert Co. and Espresso Café on Guadalupe Street.
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