Anita Desai is one of the leading literary fiction artists in India today. Her novels have made a couple of time to the Booker shortlist, though she never won one. Recently her novel ‘The Zigzag Way’ launched in 2004 got…

By: Francis Allenby The first edition of TALES OF THE STORM has gone almost unnoticed. Let us just say that, due to some strict editorial policies, the e-book was published as the publisher wanted it, not taking into account the suggestions…

By: Raymond Greiner I lived in Vienna West Virginia until age 11, we then moved to Marion, Ohio where I entered the 6th grade, in 1951. We all have memories of our early years as we awakened to the world,…

By: Damon Ferrell Marbut You could have told me anything about relationships when I was in graduate school, anything about how they function or operate, and I generally would not have listened. Love? I was all in because I saw it…

By: Brian Vowels   Marie hopped off the Metro at the Kléber station because she decided her remaining precious days in Paris shouldn’t be spent riding in an underground train nor in a taxi nor in a hotel lobby for that…

By Vanessa Cutts The sign said the Post Office closes at 2pm. It was 3pm and thirty two degrees in the suffocating humidity. Monkeys were foraging in residential gardens then returning back across the road into the bamboo and palms….

By: Raymond Greiner Gazing out the single window of my small apartment the view is a littered alley with overturned trashcans. Two cats feud over food scraps and a homeless man sleeps in the fetal position on a sheet of…

By William T. Hathaway From the Book RADICAL PEACE: People Refusing War RADICAL PEACE is a collection of reports from activists about their efforts to change our warrior culture. This chapter was contributed by an ex-soldier. Hi Mr. Hathaway, I…

By: Adreyo Sen You don’t need to look away till you realize she has your sister’s eyes. It’s the blackened, tear-smothered, matted-haired, haggard smell of your sister’s shame that follows you slyly as you drive by.   ******** [Adreyo Sen,…

By: Adreyo Sen It rained. My living room smelt of the damp. The flowers were trapped in their silences. Outside the living room that was the street was destroyed. The gathered came away. The kettle was locked back up. The children…