Fiction

Drawings Winners to be announced The prisoner. He had been in long enough, accused for others gain, tried by a court of men who had forgotten how to live, and convicted in innocence by a jury who were hungry for delicacies. In prison he was taught to appear guilty so he wouldn't suffer the hatred…

A painter sat down at his table with a dusty canvas before him. On the other side of his studio, his easels stood like a forest. Each one represented a birthday or Christmas in which a relative had come up with the perfect gift. But because he was the type of artist that liked to…

Little Bertha Venation would have been the most exquisite young woman of her century, were it not for her distressing tendancy to cheat on her lovers with other men, for a yes, for a no, sometimes not even for a yes or a no. At the time this story begins, her lover was a splendid…

My father is in New York but I don't see him until the last day of his trip East. Business, he says, Business. Just the same though I look for him on every street corner, in all the bars along Lexington Avenue, and bent low, almost to my knees, I search the taxis along Fifth…

After three years, eleven months, and two days service, Corporal Fitzgerald re-enlisted for six years, collected a re-enlistment bonus and, that same afternoon, went to the bank in Oceanside and paid the balance of the note of his 1959 Chevrolet which was four years old. He had thought that would make him feel good, but…

So there he perched, a poor sad slob of a young failure, Marvin Gardens, Ph.D., pondering in the deadest center of his ambiguities. Two years past, to the day, he had assessed his life from that identical spot – the large stuffed chair in his small study (not yet, then, had greyish stuffing begun to…

Doyle's reflection scintillated wetly from the shop windows as he passed along the Boulevard du Montparnasse without pausing, as he frequently did, in front of one of Hemingway's old haunts – the Coupole or, across the street, the Dome. He turned right on the Boulevard Raspail and walked slowly, nearly shuffling, toward L'alliance Francaise and…

Some drunkards drink themselves as sober as this liar lied herself true. I lied to my parents about where I'd been. To my boss about where I was going. To my friends about my past – creating accomplishments, creating failures, denying experiences, admitting fantasties. To strangers I was one of quadruplets, an orphan, a twin,…

a spoken & orchestrated work for 1 mass and 2 persons set: Any large city. time: After sunset toward the end of any war. action: Uncountable parties are in full swing behind uncountable broken windows. Uncountable people turnon, drink, fornicate, vomit, laugh, whisper, shout and piss where they stand or sit or recline. Above the…