Fiction

They were gathered in a field, six boys, playing a game he didn’t know.

Pes mou, the driver said to us at the taxi stand, leaning against his car, all bored and beautiful.

Light cut through the darkness that filled the nave, rousing Pastor Kane from sleep.

An itinerant photographer has set up his camera, lights, and chair in a local grocery store. This was many years ago. I was there, I saw it myself.

Oksana and Ruslana, Ukrainian girls playing in the streets of Lwów: dolls and sticks and rope. Sunup-sunset, never a cloud in the sky, even when it rains. Always tying and buckling one another’s shoes. When they fall or get scraped, they...

As Álvaro wandered the sweeping courtyard of his hotel, a colonial relic that had been renovated with a pool in preparation for the imminent wave of tourists, he had no choice but to accept the matter for what it was. The situation was...

Sometime before I turned twenty, I was saved twice from dying. Neither time was by my design or choice.

Her grandbabies should be asleep, yet here they are, restless as everyone else tonight.

 Outside the window, other women stare soberly, unchosen. I haven’t just given a person one hundred dollars. I’ve given hundreds of people nothing.

Behold: William’s father slices his mother in half. He shackles her to the bottom of a water tank. He packs her inside a cannon and lights the fuse.