Stories
Story of the Week
Maybe she was a stereotype now: a single woman with a cat.
Story of the Week
“You are a strange one,” she says. “Do you want to see my new tattoo?”
Story of the Week
Apparently this was something he had to tell her with his clothes on.
Story of the Week
His hands were the last to go under, pressed together into a little steeple.
Fiction
The night was clear, a fat kingfish moon in the sky with stars.
Story of the Week
Three fingers had been cut from her right hand, two from her left.
Nonfiction
I asked for water, and he shot me a look of henpecked resentment.
N30B Winners
Find a hair in the rose bush, wrap it around a thorn until that thorn is soft.
Poem of the Week
Wrists will twist or twirl while the hand writes the wriest writs—lamps-lit.
Poetry
Song where a house becomes a dandelion in a puff of savage wind.
Story of the Week
The bank had stated that emphatically. They had to sell and sell now.
It was as if Hank had aged twice as fast, and he couldn’t stand that truth.
iPoems
My father was neither kind nor strong in his bruising.
Story of the Week
It is natural that the novelist should doubt his ability to cope with his task.
Story of the Week
Your bookself will appear to find you trivial, its nose deep in some tome.
Nonfiction
We loaded the packs and started down, into the bluing of dusk.
Nonfiction
The story is filled with demarcations, limits, invisible as well as overt.
Poem of the Week
Too bad there is no oil between her legs that 4-year-old Muslim girl.
Fiction
Nobody knows where I am, Ned thought. No one in the whole world.
Story of the Week
She says, It’s so difficult to find a good guy. My lips form a half smile.
Poem of the Week
I’m the one with the most crumbs, little bits of salad or fudge.
Poem of the Week
Creating so many mail merges, loading ink, unjamming paper.
