Fiction of the Day
The God and the Giant
By Woo Dayoung
I wondered briefly what fear was. Where on earth did it come from?
I wondered briefly what fear was. Where on earth did it come from?
He no longer can depend on the mail because the mailman takes his time. His sweet time, he thinks, which he feels justified in thinking since he’s seen the guy in action. The mailman’s movements are
Capucine was fifty-seven years old when she killed herself by jumping from a ninth-floor window. First she was born, then she grew up, and after modeling in Paris she began acting in Hollywood movies,
He loved the opera. He hated the opera. So when his mother insisted that he take the cherished single ticket to Verdi’s Falstaff (she listened so often to the La Scala recording that he suspected she’d memorized the score), Arno responded with a formal “As you wish, mother,”
Meantime we will express our darker purposes. Chicago, London, Amsterdam, Vienna, Warsaw, whence I took a cheap train to Ukraine. I boarded my train, found the couchette enveloped in
One day when she was five Angelica was in the gazebo, playing snap with her brothers. Suddenly she caught sight of something rising from the ha-ha. It was a special hippopotamus. “Fly at once!” he said.
His doorbell rang and Buddy peered through the viewer at a woman in the courtyard. She had green eyes and straight black hair, cut sharply like a fifties Keely Smith. He knew her. She did bookkeeping
Timmy and Mark Rothko are walking east on 86th Street, two more white kids playing black. Fucking crazy. They are both wearing FUBU (For Us By Us) with their Timberland boots, sizes nine and ten respectively.
In the summer of 1917 Robert Grainier took part in an attempt on the life of a Chinese laborer caught, or anyway accused of, stealing from the company stores of the Spokane International Railway in the Idaho Panhandle.
Towards the end the Gls at Nuremberg played basketball almost around the clock, it seemed. We couldn't see them from our cells, but the percussive bap, bap, bap of the ball on the floor carried to us from the old mess hall where they played.
Bob Munroe woke up on his face. He had rolled over in the night and now his arms were pinned beneath him. They were numb and rubbery and, in that dark, cloudy time between sleep and waking, Bob wondered if someone hadn't come along and stolen his arms in the night.