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Donald Dewey
When I first got to San Francisco, Flaherty was goin’ around with a twit name of Cynthia. And everywhere Flaherty and Cynthia went, there was sure to be tailin’ along Cynthia’s twin brother Jerome, as much of a twit from the same egg as Cynthia herself.
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Jeff Friedman
Face to face with the bear, I raised my baseball bat and watched him, but he seemed more interested in the garbage dumpster he had just plundered. “Bash his brains out,” the crow in the driveway shouted, but the bear’s hackles relaxed down his neck as he continued eating from a white hefty bag.
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Dennis Y. Ginoza
The sun had only just risen and the garden was still spangled with dew and in that tepid early light the widower knelt between staked rows of cucumber and edamame and waited for his dog to die.
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Jason Graff
A blonde toddler with his arms tucked inside his overalls blocked the way to the hostess’s station. The man next to him, dressed in work boots and a flannel coat, met my eyes with the look of an exhausted cattle wrangler who’d wearied of minding his calf.
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Charles Haverty
Polly mixed a pitcher of grasshoppers while “The Little Drummer Boy” played over and over in the apartment next door.
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Aliya Whiteley
Donna writes a song to David. It's a sad song. She records it on her laptop: her guitar strings, her voice, trembling. Then she uploads her song to YouTube and, one month later, five thousand people have heard it, and cried along with her. This is the age of sharing; whatever you feel, you can record it.
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Amanda Yskamp
The hallway fell dark, then flashed green, fluorescent tubes humming and crackling. The key that hung around her neck caught the fleeting light as Mary rounded the landing.
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