Narrative Firsts

Publishing first-time authors, and introducing their work to readers across the globe, is one of our greatest pleasures. Below are some of the authors whose first works have appeared in Narrative.

Sarah Balakrishnan
Trump versus Superman
2022 Narrative Prize Winner
The first rule of the house is that everything must be even stevens.
Dana R. Beasley
It Moves the Same
A window has no liberty in what it shows.
Ian Spencer Bell
Climbing
She was still listening for directions, waiting for footsteps.
Patrick M. Butler
The Clock of Paradise
There are, presumably, no clocks in paradise.
Maryanne Chrisant
Faith
“Tell me that everything will be okay,” I whispered to the photo.
Katie Coleman
The Far Shore
My country neither interested me nor inspired any sense of fealty.
Shane Delaney
Burials
“Some nutbag wants to dig the grave himself.”
Jennifer Delgadillo
Hidalga
When the lasso dancers were done, they kicked away like wild colts.
Elizabeth Estella
Alimony
There was talk of it being a friendship at first.
Farnaz Fassihi
Devil’s Child
Conversation was synonymous with interrogation.
Cally Fiedorek
People (Interlude)
The woman stood alone at the end of the gallery.
Yelena Furman
Naming
I was in my early twenties when I discovered what my name was.
Leo Goodyear
Feeding the Lions
“I’m really interested in blood and guts right now.”
Madelena Grossmann
Our Fairy Stories
You cannot make it better, it will never go away.
Minrose Gwin
Pheasant Hunting
He looked like Robert Redford; I looked like a regular person.
Soo J. Hong
A Blessing
After the reveal, no one could unsee my affiliation.
Lorien House
Alphabet City, 1985
I can verify that he himself pulled guns on people.
Wen Jing
Asiana
To resist him, I danced how he wanted, but made a mockery of it.
Reed Johnson
Triage
A dead body leaned against a wall. Its eyes were open.
R. O. Kwon
Superhero
A few months after Christina renounced God she went off to college.
Kassy Lee
Gamble
I understood only the sugar-soft aspect of her love.
Krys Lee
The Salaryman
Your company has abandoned you, but you are not finished.
Kara Levy
Ready
Whoever missed the most questions had to tell a secret.
Andrea Lim
Senior Spring
I saw myself, and for the first time, I didn’t look away.
Ethan Loewi
Enjoys Being Held
It’s been hard, this hug embargo.
Vivian Ludford
The Morro
Morro da Providência has awoken and you must too.
Sarah Mandl
Pardoning
Who am I to say no to a god?
Rachel Mannheimer
February
By morning, I knew the year was warming.
Anthony Marra
Chechnya
2010 Narrative Prize Winner
Sonja slapped her sister. How could she shed tears for the past?
Daria-Ann Martineau
Mine
I thought of you caught in the limbo of earth’s womb.
Toni Mehler
Friends
The scuffed leather attaché case was handcuffed to my wrist.
Elizabeth Metzger
Five Poems
It’s almost summer in the asylum by the sea.
Dena K. Mohammad
A Son of Baghdad
My parents were wed for six years before my father took a second wife.
Lael Mohib
Caring
Hazel is thinking about Dirk again, the fisherman neighbor.
John Murray
To Hart Crane
Now he chuckles with the sea, stitched within its timeless jive.
Mia O’Neill
Smoke Days
The new sous chef is on fire again. It’s the second time in a week.
Skyler Osborne
Incarnations
All morning the cypress detonates with ugly birds.
Maggie Panko
Suspended
Out of twenty-three students, twenty were boys.
K. Reed Petty
Belated
A thoroughly original video narrative.
F. C. Pierce
Sea Horse
The eyes, as large as skipping stones, focused straight at the boat.
Donette Plaisance
You Don’t Know What’s Good
Nostalgia carried heat, like a picnic bench sitting in the sun.
Robin Perry Politan
A Day at the Beach for Aphrodite
I was enraged at being alone on the outside of all that love and lust.
Daniel Pope
Making a Difference
I used to love reading, but then I started drinking too much.
Hannah Timmins Reed
After the Fire, the Sound of a Low Whisper
Our life is fine as it is, she would say to him.
Byron Russell
The Phone Rings
On her sixty-second birthday Marge Olson got a call.
Anna Ferrandou Sawyer
The Forest Path
Half the women around here have a husband in some kind of fix.
Jack Schiff
At Lee
Things got worse as the students became restless.
Djenanway Se-Gahon
Jellyfish Movement of Ghosts
A heaving chorus walked me down the aisle of my spine.
Kartikeya Shekhar
Allergy
I noticed it one morning, this innocuous-looking bump on my finger.
A. T. Steel
Honey Buns and Cream Soda in the Stairwell
Her wide and vicious mouth blossomed into a savage smile.
Soren Stockman
Three Poems
Love began to bite its way through me.
Gabriel Tallent
Men Against Violence
Thinking of her laying on Olive’s skin makes me ache.
Barbara Trachtenberg
Fingerprints
Suddenly Julia’s silence had solidified like cold fat in a frying pan.
Madhuri Vijay
Lorry Raja
The Pushcart Prize Series, 2014
Best American Nonrequired Reading, 2013
Caylee Weintraub
Blight
My dad was optimistic that he could be a one-armed farmer.
Stella Wong
Oregon 1945
Imagine several thousand paper bombs swimming through air.
Jodi Yemini
Richard
He didn’t fall in line with our well-established porn-shop hierarchy.
Taymiya R. Zaman
Thirst
The Pushcart Prize Series, 2014
Claire Xingying Zhang
Loves Me, Loves Me Not
You’d imagined yourself in the doorway, giving her a knowing look.

Narrative Firsts

2022 Narrative Prize WinnerThe first rule of the house is that everything must be even stevens.

A window has no liberty in what it shows.

She was still listening for directions, waiting for footsteps.

There are, presumably, no clocks in paradise.

“Tell me that everything will be okay,” I whispered to the photo.

My country neither interested me nor inspired any sense of fealty.

“Some nutbag wants to dig the grave himself.”

When the lasso dancers were done, they kicked away like wild colts.

There was talk of it being a friendship at first.

Conversation was synonymous with interrogation.

The woman stood alone at the end of the gallery.

I was in my early twenties when I discovered what my name was.

“I’m really interested in blood and guts right now.”

You cannot make it better, it will never go away.

He looked like Robert Redford; I looked like a regular person.

After the reveal, no one could unsee my affiliation.

I can verify that he himself pulled guns on people.

To resist him, I danced how he wanted, but made a mockery of it.

A dead body leaned against a wall. Its eyes were open.

A few months after Christina renounced God she went off to college.

I understood only the sugar-soft aspect of her love.

Your company has abandoned you, but you are not finished.

Whoever missed the most questions had to tell a secret.

I saw myself, and for the first time, I didn’t look away.

It’s been hard, this hug embargo.

Morro da Providência has awoken and you must too.

Who am I to say no to a god?

By morning, I knew the year was warming.

2010 Narrative Prize WinnerSonja slapped her sister. How could she shed tears for the past?

I thought of you caught in the limbo of earth’s womb.

The scuffed leather attaché case was handcuffed to my wrist.

It’s almost summer in the asylum by the sea.

My parents were wed for six years before my father took a second wife.

Hazel is thinking about Dirk again, the fisherman neighbor.

Now he chuckles with the sea, stitched within its timeless jive.

The new sous chef is on fire again. It’s the second time in a week.

All morning the cypress detonates with ugly birds.

Out of twenty-three students, twenty were boys.

A thoroughly original video narrative.

The eyes, as large as skipping stones, focused straight at the boat.

Nostalgia carried heat, like a picnic bench sitting in the sun.

I was enraged at being alone on the outside of all that love and lust.

I used to love reading, but then I started drinking too much.

Our life is fine as it is, she would say to him.

On her sixty-second birthday Marge Olson got a call.

Half the women around here have a husband in some kind of fix.

Things got worse as the students became restless.

A heaving chorus walked me down the aisle of my spine.

I noticed it one morning, this innocuous-looking bump on my finger.

2022 Narrative Prize Winner
The first rule of the house is that everything must be even stevens.

2010 Narrative Prize Winner
Sonja slapped her sister. How could she shed tears for the past?