Old Man Rabbit’s Thanksgiving Dinner Carolyn Sherwin Bailey
Old Man Rabbit sat at the door of his little house eating a nice, ripe, juicy turnip. It was a cold, frosty day, but Old Man Rabbit
Continue readingClassic and Contemporary Stories
Old Man Rabbit sat at the door of his little house eating a nice, ripe, juicy turnip. It was a cold, frosty day, but Old Man Rabbit
Continue readingThe grey warm evening of August had descended upon the city and a mild warm air, a memory of summer, circulated in the streets.
Continue readingThere is one day that is ours. There is one day when all we Americans who are not self-made go back to the old home to eat saleratus biscuits and marvel how much nearer to the porch the old pump looks than it used to.
Continue reading“Yes’m,” answered two meek voices, and after a few irrepressible giggles, silence reigned, broken only by an occasional snore from the boys, or the soft scurry of mice in the buttery, taking their part in this old-fashioned Thanksgiving.
Continue readingIn the early 1990s I had just emerged from a long-term relationship (my first as, and with, a young gay man) that ended with more of a whimper than a bang. Being pro-active by nature, and more social than I am now, I decided that my sister and closest friends and I
Continue readingWilliam Legrand, who discovers a peculiar gold-colored beetle while on Sullivan’s Island in South Carolina. Legrand is obsessed with the scarab beetle and makes drawings of it. Later, Legrand receives a scrap of parchment paper with a cryptic coded
Continue readingYou would hate it if you knew how many times I apply lipstick now that you’re gone. I’m putting it on, like, every five minutes to get through the next fifteen, though I know they use fish scales to make it
Continue readingLong-suffering Gwendolyn O’Malley felt mid-sentence, the tiredness that comes with uttering pointless words.
Continue readingI watch them together, though I’m supposed to be in my room. They’re sitting too close. Cigarette smoke trails in front of my eyes as I sit huddled in the corner.
Continue readingI’m lying down on the bed. Naked. Carefree. One hand thrown carelessly behind my head propping me up. The other playing with my belly button or any small indent on my skin within a comfortable radius.
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