By Charlotte Pregnolato Harry sits expectantly at the table. Lights are low, candles lit, and “Fool’s Rush In” by Elvis, still Harry’s favorite, plays softly. He smiles as he draws his napkin from under his fork and places it on…
By Chitra Gopalakrishnan I stumble upon the goat woman in the ghost-grey rhythm of the August rain. This happens on the deserted Mandi road, near Juanapur village, a kilometer away from my home on the outskirts of New Delhi. I…
By: Sunil Sharma No longer could she stand—his body smell. Things suddenly got complicated that summer night. Sweating hard in the airless room, he wanted to have her body, the way the hungry want to grab a piece of meat….
By: Stephen Faulkner Changing my belief system was quite a simple thing in my case. Jesus was a simple answer to a complex malaise, a muddying of the spirit, if you will forgive such a strange metaphor. In the beginning,…
By: Alan Berger He would have said how the fuck could they make a trumpet out of plastic and have come forth out of it with such beautiful sounds. Sounds like he heard his father play on his brass trumpet….
By: The Birch Twins reams of Raglan Crag, narrated by Lady Elina Greypepper No laughter sang around the fells No mothers there to nag No hunt, no dance, no brave or bold For they died at Raglan Crag She held…
By: Paweł Markiewicz I have just returned from a walk with my beloved hound on foot, which has a good heart, the tenderly shaped by Erlking dog’s heartlet. I’m feeling very well at home, as well as blissfully. I have a light…
By: Camille Paldi It was the spring of 2008 and I had recently qualified as a lawyer in New South Wales, Australia, after having completed an LL.M. in International Law at the University of Sydney, a Juris Doctor in Law…
By: E.R. LeVar Ruby ran a clump of Caroline’s pale hair through her hands, feeling for the knots and mats before taking a brush to it. She was gentle, as gentle as could be. “Ow!” “Sorry. Your hair’s too knotty….
By: Thomas Fitzgerald McCarthy A heavy fog cloaked most of Verdando Mountain in the winter. From a distance, it was thick and glassy, and the few houses in the valley below looked like little more than particles of residue trapped…