Tag Short Stories

From Beneath the Waves

The sun crested the horizon and began to slowly burn the mist away from the water. Helen sat at her writing desk and stared out the window. The sea was calm and the waves were mild. She hadn’t missed her morning swim all summer. At seventy years old, she needed perfect conditions. Helen finished the letter she had been composing for the last hour, folded it carefully, and slipped it

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Cole

It’s an old railroad style house fronting a thin street, not far from the train tracks and stockyards. Cole comes out the front door for a moment to check on his motorcycle; he won’t be staying long, but it’s dusk and he knows the neighborhood. The icy wind stings his face like bees. He’s visiting Lillian, his mother. She’s invited him here, as she does once in a blue moon,

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Card Trick

            The day is as big as she ever remembers one being. But it starts the same way all the others do, with him.             “Mer-wee!” It’s only a slight slur today. That’s good. On others his speech comes out in thick moans that crawl across the smoke-filled air onto bare walls, once bright white but now stained yellow, and up her spine. Those moans

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The Squatters

Olivia Anderson had recently returned to Bridgeport, Illinois after a year of living in Budapest, and she needed a place to live. She was tired of tugging at the end of her parents’ leash and wanted to choose her own path in life, at least for a while, to include paying for her own apartment. Her best friend Emma Chase had been earning her own way since her junior year in high school, and her

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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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