(1) My father leaned against the front fender of the family wagon, while I did an eleven-year-old’s imitation on the opposite side. We...

No one will ever understand what made me this way, as even I don’t understand it. One day, I was a pure maiden, sitting by the window in...

On the morning my father sent me away, I could smell the good wood smoke from the cook fires. The sounds of the old women sweeping and...

The sun had already begun sagging in earnest by the time Alan Bornstein blooped their last tennis ball, the newish one still shedding a...

The glass vases of table flowers had belonged to someone else, left in disarray on trays in the empty Tap Room at the New York city club...

Sister Maria Veronica was my seventh-grade teacher. She was tall and young, with a pretty face and wonderful, plump breasts neatly tucked...

A lit match streaked toward Earth. For nearly two years, an alphabet soup of acronym named government agencies were aware of its...

The end, or the beginning? Where to start? It had all been so clear in the beginning; make it, get ahead. Suck up the overtime. Work...

She walks the empty house. Paint peels below the watermark in commas, a scaly flick of fish. She checks cupboards, counting, dividing...

The fair was an annual occurrence. Like most things in Delaware, a member of the du Pont family had founded it. The point was to sell...

“I was quite partial to oysters,” the old lady said, eyes narrowing as she peered into the tunnel that occasionally turned itself inside...

She unfolded the slip of paper that had become damp and soft as rag from having been clenched in her fist, for she had not wanted to have...

During graduate school, we lived in this run down post-Victorian that the previous renters, a bunch of hippies, had gotten permission...

During the Art League’s plein air paint out on the boardwalk, Lyn saw Michael whose portrait she had painted the previous summer walking...

“You’re lucky I didn’t break a nail,” I said to the guy who lay on the floor at my feet. He was dead, and if he could have said anything...

Based on real diary entries There was nothing strange about them really. They were men. Boots. Uniforms. Things I knew very well. But...

*carpenter ant writing from Holly Point Farm in Belle Haven, Virginia are you trying to get me killed question mark boss, our deal was i...

From Hunter Killer: The War with China – The Battle for the Central Pacific by David Poyer. Copyright © 2017 by the author and reprinted...

“The very thought of it sets my heart aflutter.” “What?” She repeated herself. He looked at her with his eyes narrowed and his lips...

There were times, Davis would admit now, and only now, now that everything and nothing was at stake, that he had been truly happy. These...