Tag Fiction

Nothing to Remember

The sunset shrouded the bay in a mantle of gold. Ben scanned the horizon from his second-floor balcony and then leaned forward in his chair to gain a clearer view of his front yard. The jacaranda trees were in full bloom, their lush petals serving as a purple canopy for anyone strolling up the path to his house. As the maid was finishing her daily chores, she took special care to

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The Edge of Faith

I There are three reasons for a man to fall to his death from a cliff. It might be an accident, either brought on by a quirk of nature or human error. An unfortunate turn of events may have brought him to some precipice at a bad time – like a sudden rainstorm causing him to run for cover over a path that has abruptly been washed away. Perhaps he

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Reunion

She is immensely interested in him. She has even secret mischievous moments in which she wishes she could get him alone, on a desert island, away from all ties and with nobody else in the world to consider, and just drag him off his pedestal and see him making love like any common man. We all have private imaginations of that sort. But when it comes to business, to the

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The Invisible Knife

I “I want to know once and for all who did this to me!” hollered Hugh Jackson III, waving his stubbed hands dramatically for all to witness (and seeming to startle himself more than the rest of us). This was the climax of a speech he had prepared for me and the local policemen on the morning of my arrival in New Iberia. I had come to investigate a six-month

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Billy Buck and the Bear

I I came to the city of Gold Creek in early May as the fitful spring winds were settling into early summer. The morning air was rife with the smell of lilac and the sound of lunatic birds tweeting and whistling from the huge oaks and maples that lined the streets of the finer residential areas near the college.  Children played in the yards, dogs barked at anything and nothing,

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Happy Birthday, Charles Dickens

London. Michaelmas term lately over, and the Lord Chancellor sitting in Lincoln’s Inn Hall. Implacable November weather. As much mud in the streets as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill. Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle,

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