Fiction

The Lone Night Cantina was not a real cowboy bar. In those places, imagined Annie Wells, in those roadside joints outside of Cheyenne or Amarillo, just off a two-lane highway with pickups made in the good ol’ U.S. of A. parked in the dirt lot, the men angled their sweat-stained Stetsons over the eyes and…

To begin warily, let us say this has to do with words, the appalling paucity, herself talking to herself when she was accustomed to the daily slap and tickle within the ebb of routine. But he was away now visiting his father who was, as they said, fragile, a word she said to herself as…

The boy could hardly remember a time when he had not been in the car. The car and the driving hadn't really made him forget; they just made it hard to believe there was anything else in the world except them. It was night again. He no longer watched the beads of light in the…

Leo, I don't think what you did was right. Five years ago you jumped on top of me and made me squirm until I thought my own bones being crushed into my lungs and liver might kill me. But I didn't die; I got used to you instead. Then one day you climbed off. Just…

Coach discovered Danny's arm when Danny's parents were splitting up at the beginning of the season. For a while it didn't seem that Danny would be playing at all, but Coach called him at home where he was staying with his father and told him he needed his "natural curve and pretty good heat," said…

Long brown fingers on the yellow keys. Fingertips pressed to silent chords, audible only to him. Ivory cool against dry skin. Again, tries; smiles. The click of hammers falling soundlessly. The old man looked up from the piano and grinned. "’I am that I am,’ the Lord God said." Woke up this mornin', blues walking…

How was it that Myott came to understand the nature of his hands? It happened like this. Even as a child he was, by temperament, a shy, gentle boy, quiet and self-contained, one not given to coveting the marginal compensations offered by an increasingly noisy and unprincipled world. His mother, who managed a religious bookstore…

Not Jane Eyre again. Other people are moving on in life or going around in circles or failing utterly, but I'm still doing business at the same old stand. Every year a new load of students is dumped like laundry in front of me, needing to know Jane Eyre. Sometimes I take comfort in the…

In Manik Sen's dream, the monsoons had begun. Thick drops of water fell tumultuously through the dark and the wind swung around in circles, from land to river to land. At first, in his dream, Manik was a child out in the rain, trying to gather the falling drops in his small palms. He let…