We believe students and readers everywhere deserve a great and free modern library, inside of which they can get deliriously, entertainingly, profoundly lost. And found.

Fiction

Classics
His hands stiffened so that the fingers curled inward like gray claws.
Fiction
The Kid came back from the post trader’s store with a six-shooter.
Fiction
“With me for an uncle you don’t never need to be afraid of him, baby.”
Story of the Week
Even if he lost her he would never disparage her, never not love her.
Story of the Week
Now, with new orders to carry out, he’d been restored to factory settings.
Story of the Week
Clark and Robertson got a reset, and Tuyen would get a baby. But Mikey?
Story of the Week
L’chaim. To lives both bygone and ongoing, and to the truths I choose to believe.
Classics
Gurov reflected, “it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make her acquaintance.”
Fiction
“We have heard that this blackened smear is art. We do not see it.”
Story of the Week
The interrogator was both man and deity, prophet and god.
Story of the Week
We backed up and I kept ripping it at his face, trying to knock his teeth out.
Story of the Week
The blood had been soaked up in sawdust—“this is hell.”
Story of the Week
Living as the last artist in Manhattan: it’s the ultimate test of commitment.
Story of the Week
I think you might have turned into a novelist, if we’d been allowed to go on.
Classics
Kids interfere with perfection. Wives interfere. Marriage interferes.
Fiction
The letter both pleased and disturbed her. Why did he get in touch?
Story of the Week
The house of our relationship is a fort. Blanket fort. Tree fort.
Story of the Week
It was up airly and down late with him, and the loom never standin’ still.
Story of the Week
He cannot imagine the shape his life would take without her.
Fiction
I tell her I’m a woman now, that my boobs just popped in.
Fiction
There in front of the house was his son’s ratty old Thunderbird.
Fiction
The sense of power that flights of temper evoke will betray you.
Fiction
It was on a mid-June morning that the stranger first called.
Fiction
A coldness bumped a last kiss upon my cheek, a good-bye kiss sliding across.
Classics
The eyes looked into his own with a meaning, a malign significance.
Fiction
Five dark shapes loped after the car. Dogs—as far as the eye could see.
Story of the Week
They would find certain and awful death in Afghanistan.
Fiction
This is not deception. This is a subtle way of conditioning.
Fiction
Here was rot and immemorial night. And death. Death above all.
Fiction
I am eleven years old and too young to die, but I am dying nonetheless.