Fiction

The Puritan, like a memento mori grinning from a mirror, is still among us. Relentlessly, he reminds himself and us of our longings to shatter his image with the possibility of rebirth, of conversion, of utter transformation. But now, after tens of generations of staring stubbornly into himself, as if into the white night of…

In his lifetime Virgil became familiar as anyone with the history of dreams, saw in his palms an old man dreaming as he held them before his face and died. As he became one of the aged dead who sing in our sleep. "There was a man one time," Abigail would say, when Virgil was…

Eventually I want to be able to sit still for an entire evening breathing the air around me in and out like a sturdy houseplant with no need for cigarettes or drinks or television or touching or being touched. That's my goal in life right now, not forgetting that I have a realistic education and…

It was not the kind of service one would expect, considering the quality of the hotel. Around eight o'clock both Eunice and I were awakened by a heavy pounding on the door to our room that sounded once, loud and authoritatively, then decreased into what seemed a series of pulsing echoes. I staggered across the…

The hump on her back was bad when she crawled out of bed at dawn to make breakfast for her grand-niece. It was an ugly hump, but small, almost unnoticeable when she wore large collars sewn with lace and ribbons. Now she didn't care. She pulled her bathrobe over the aching knot of spine. Last…

I The ghost of Raymondo Cruz leaned awkwardly against a far corner of the angled bedroom; by now Victor recognized that the mere slump of shoulders, the bending of wrinkled green slacks and a downcast skinny face signified nothing tragic; odds were high that Popps was only meditating, for no tears slid around; Victor, the…

The big bus wheeled up to the open gate and stopped. The doors hissed open. Larry looked both ways, took a deep breath, and swung the gleaming monster out into the heavy afternoon traffic. Here goes! he shouted silently. He headed for downtown, thinking, Oh Lord, I can't do it. I'll crash. Within fifteen blocks…

The characters in this work are meant to be real. References to persons living and dead are intended. Are there fifteen people in the world who will be afraid when they read this paragraph? No. That, in itself, is a comment on my insignificance. Are there fifteen people who will become uneasy on reading it?…

When she'd packed up the remains of the picnic lunch and gotten the twins settled in their carriage, Betty Meyers looked around for Bobby, her five-year-old. Squinting against the sun, she finally saw him 'way up the beach, playing with some French kids. "Bobby!" she yelled, but he pretended not to hear and she started…