Dear Michael, I love your website and its pertinent personal comments re the comps. I entered the Alexander Cordell one some months ago, the mini saga, and was short-listed to win. It was a mile round trip with two toddlers but we had a really wonderful weekend. My husband is self employed and works really long hours so it was great to drag him away and out into the countryside.
Its engine makes a loud bang, then sputters as metal rips into metal. I let off the gas and the motor shuts down. I coast in neutral, ease the car onto the narrow dirt shoulder and stop. The road is always smooth, each crack and pothole immediately patched and filled. My running shoes crunch through gravel as I walk.
A glow of house lights shines through the trees and, when I find a driveway, I head toward the light. I see her clearly through the kitchen window, a slender woman with dark blonde hair. She senses me, I guess, because she turns and peers through the glass.
A quizzical look crosses her features. I wave and offer a smile.
She meets me at the door. The smell of baked cookies wafts out to welcome me. My stomach churns for one as I step inside. Cookies are everywhere; plates of them cover the counters and the kitchen table. I glance through the doorway and see a huge mound piled on top the dinning room table.
My knees buckle a little. I sound sure of myself, even cocky. I catch the look of my arms then, firm and muscular.
My stomach, I see, has no bulge.
I run one hand through my hair and find it long and, most likely, a boyish mess. My mind seizes that thought; I am dreaming. The image of a crazy-eyed stalker angered me.
Someone had to protect a girl like her from a man like that. Two children enter from the dinning room; a boy in shorts, dark haired like me, and a girl in a summer dress, a child version of the mother.
The whole room shudders. The oppressive darkness of my apartment surrounded me. I slid off my couch, limped stiff-legged to the balcony and smoked a cigarette.
My dad made me earn every dollar.
Poor people only rented. I saw the permanent engine oil under his nails as he uncoiled the anchor. It was a good dream, I decided, especially the girl. The doctor told me that the medication could trigger vivid dreaming.
I slammed the balcony door, stripped to my boxers and left the clothes on the floor. My stomach sagged over my drawers, a growing ball of soft fat. We claw at each other, two bodies merging under white sheets. The flashes of light blind me. In the total darkness I hear her moan.A short story is a piece of prose fiction that typically can be read in one sitting and focuses on a self-contained incident or series of linked incidents, with the intent of evoking a "single effect" or mood, however there are many exceptions to this..
A dictionary definition is "an invented prose narrative shorter than a novel usually dealing with a few characters and aiming at unity of. Short stories Do you like listening to and reading stories? Reading stories is a great way to improve your vocabulary and we have lots of great stories for you to watch.
Short story: Short story, brief fictional prose narrative that is shorter than a novel and that usually deals with only a few characters. The short story is usually concerned with a single effect conveyed in only one or a few significant episodes or scenes.
The form encourages economy of setting, concise. Ivy's fables, fairy tales and storys.
Aesop's Fables, stories by Hans Christian Anderson and Lewis Carroll and Mother Goose nursery rhymes. Short story definition is - an invented prose narrative shorter than a novel usually dealing with a few characters and aiming at unity of effect and often concentrating on the creation of mood rather than plot.
A short story is fictional work of prose that is shorter in length than a novel. Edgar Allan Poe, in his essay "The Philosophy of Composition," said that a shor.
The Complete Stories of Bernard Malamud is "an essential American book," Richard Stern declared in the Chicago Tribune when the collection was published in hardcover. His praise was echoed by other reviewers and by readers, who embraced the book as they might a displaced person in one of Malamud's stories, now returned to us, complete and fulfilled and recognized at last. The great North American school of magic was founded in the seventeenth century. It stands at the highest peak of Mount Greylock, where it is concealed from non-magic gaze by a variety of powerful enchantments, which sometimes manifest in a wreath of misty cloud. Search the Free Books Search our online library of thousands of free books by authors such as Dickens, Austen, Shakespeare and many others.