Story. Страница 15

Writer In The Wilderness. Tommy DeJosia

    The island was set in the middle of the lake in the northern part of Maine. The calm lake kept it isolated from the mainland. A green mountain range was far off in the distance. On the island was a small cabin. This cabin had running water from the lake and no electricity. When dusk turned to night that's when the lights went out. A fire ravaged through chopped wood in the fireplace. Smoke billowed out of the chimney. The crisp cool wind of winter had begun to swarm in from the north. The sun had set beyond…

The Dragon Rock. Ellena Ashley

This story begins with Once Upon A Time, because the best stories do, of course.     So, Once Upon A Time, and imagine if you can, a steep sided valley cluttered with giant, spiky green pine trees and thick, green grass that reaches to the top of your socks so that when you run, you have to bring your knees up high, like running through water. Wildflowers spread their sweet heady perfume along the gentle breezes and bees hum musically to themselves as they cheerily collect flower pollen.

The Newfound Cosmopolitan. Mason Yates

I     There were seven of them in the spacious room, all crowded around a cluttered table next to (but not quite) at the center. A few of them were scribbling notes on pieces of blank paper. A couple of others were typing- click-click-click-click-clack-clack-click-click…- as fast as humanly possible on miniature laptops. One of them read a tattered edition of A Tale of Two Cities, while the last of them, a portly man with a thick five o'clock shadow on his cheeks, chin, and neck that went by the name of Marshall…

The Robe Of Peace. O. Henry

Mysteries follow one another so closely in a great city that the reading public and the friends of Johnny Bellchambers have ceased to marvel at his sudden and unexplained disappearance nearly a year ago. This particular mystery has now been cleared up, but the solution is so strange and incredible to the mind of the average man that only a select few who were in close touch with Bellchambers will give it full credence.

Three Letters. Nels Schifano

It was autumn. Although still afternoon the journey had been spent peering at slowly moving red lights through clouds of condensing exhaust and the intermittent slip-slip of wipers. Now as she turned off the ignition darkness gathered silently around her. She walked head down, hood up, feeling plastic handles moulding themselves around her fingers, the carrier bag spinning one way then the next as it clipped against her leg. The pavement was thick with the slippery brown mulch of fallen leaves and the smell…

The Blockade. Sushma Joshi

The blockade started quietly enough, on a rainy day in mid-March. It was the first rain of the year. People breathed in the smell of wet earth as if it was a long-forgotten blessing. In the bushes, the last remaining springs of yellow winter forsythia bloomed side by side with dusty spring jasmine. This flowering was troublesome, highlighting the nature of a world in which time had lost its moorings – spring had arrived early, too early, two months before winter's end.

Staley Fleming's Hallucination. Ambrose Bierce

Of two men who were talking one was a physician.     'I sent for you, Doctor,' said the other, 'but I don't think you can do me any good. Maybe you can recommend a specialist in psychopathy. I fancy I'm a bit loony.'     'You look all right,' the physician said.

They're Made out of Meat. Terry Bisson

"They're made out of meat."     "Meat?"     "Meat. They're made out of meat."     "Meat?"     "There's no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."

The Chaplet. Saki

A strange stillness hung over the restaurant; it was one of those rare moments when the orchestra was not discoursing the strains of the Ice-cream Sailor waltz.     "Did I ever tell you," asked Clovis of his friend, "the tragedy of music at mealtimes?