Fiction
First the eyes, he thought. Watch the eyes—where are the eyes watching? Forward, searching over heads, sorting out the familiar ones ahead on the rickety gangplank?
Victoria conceded that her "nothing new under the sun" mantra might be taking its toll on her personal life by draining it of a certain immediacy.
“My father is flying, my father is flying,” Rachel chants as they rush around the house in a panic, moving their mattress down to the tatami room and making their bedroom ready for the visit.
The boy is walking about forty feet behind his mother. The two of them, the mother and the boy, are walking in the snow on the shoulder of a straight highway on a gray windless day.
Cora Gutierrez distrusted good news. So on the Friday when she learned her temporary lectureship in Environmental Studies at Cal State Long Beach was renewed for another year, her future snarled like an angry Doberman.
Willy presses the glowing doorbell and waits, hops from left to right on the thick, jute mat, balls his fingers into fists inside his gloves, trying to stay warm.
There’s a body at the bottom of the lake. Probably many. The way you react depends on your definition of the word natural. Probably also on your moral compass, but I can’t just start with bodies. Life is about having stories.
My girlfriend Elena doesn’t sleep at night anymore. It’s been twenty-three days.
The day her children went over the cliff on the hiking trail at Eagle Crest, Regina Mayer was in the park gift shop, idly fingering a pair of sunglasses that she knew she wasn’t going to buy, that she didn’t even like the look of but had removed f
Nobody could figure out why the Colonel's wife tried to beat the train.
When Dad came home that night he said it was a terrible waste of a '55 Chevy Bel Air, and, even with a V-8 engine, she should have known better.
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Wisconsin Academy Offices
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Madison, WI 53703
Phone: 608.733.6633 x25