At a Funeral by Alyasa Abbas
Waseem Akbar was a friend of my father’s and my uncles – It was the only thing I knew about him. Naturally, the news of his death did not affect me. The burial was in the night.
Continue readingClassic and Contemporary Stories
Waseem Akbar was a friend of my father’s and my uncles – It was the only thing I knew about him. Naturally, the news of his death did not affect me. The burial was in the night.
Continue readingMy 70th birthday gift from my daughter was a four-day guided tour of Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe.
Continue readingHe slid my just-fallen flip-flop back on my foot. I thought, “He treats me like a princess.”
Continue reading“What if she finds the body? Oh, man, we should never have buried it there!”
Continue readingI lay on the table, waiting for the Ultra sound technician to come and look at my heart. It has a hole in it—somewhere on the Septum. My dad told me once
Continue reading“This doctor new guy says to me about the tumor….”
Continue readingBern Vega walked through the front door of his tiny bungalow on Brook Street with the words of the writing class instructor resonating in his head: “If you’re having trouble getting started
Continue readingThe restaurant is crowded and the hum is building as the place quickly fills and the overfilled plates and glasses arrive at the small, closely jammed tables.
Continue readingMy dad tapped the top of his beer can and turned Tom Petty up louder.
“Make sure you get the right kind.”
Continue reading“Welcome to the Halloween Horror show!” A teen draped in a black cape and matching top hat climbed onto a large headstone situated in the Blackcroft Cemetery
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