Fiction
Nam-Phuong Nguyen - Ghost Story
Thirty-four kilomet southeast of Hanoi, across unbreaking fields of rice lies the village of Son Hu. It is more a congregation.....
Tanya Gupta - Spare Tuesday
Zoe knows when laughter isn't felt and she hears it now, coming into her home with tinkling silvery harmonics down the telephone line, and looking down...
Randolyn Zinn - Mera
Tran is crying again. Her hands are shaking. There are things she hasn’t told her daughter.
“Turn it off,” she says, and Srey obeys, rolling...
Nicky Loomis - The Mosquito Bite
There is a good chance I have Malaria. Latent Malaria. Latent Malaria that is starting to seep out of my insides and into morning shakes, afternoon rigors, and bouts of evening cotton-mouth. I looked up the symptoms in my...
Peter Khoury - The Consultant
Moorehead, of “Bewitched.”
No thinking involved here. Leaning over a tall cup of black coffee, Sheila instinctively dragged her right hand over her crinkled copy of The Times and wrote A-G-N-E-S.
So much for 10...
Ksenia Rychtycka - 40 Days
The last time that Luba saw her husband alive, he joked about the color of his suits in the same way he joked about his enemies --- laughing, always laughing, as if a boisterous chuckle could fell death threats by the very audacity of its ...
The small side streets overlooked by plows were messy and hard to navigate, the winter I lost my wife to Bollywood darling, Shahrukh Khan. It was snowy more than cold in upstate New York, the sky often obscured by thick storm clouds. Winter...
Amanda Shaw-Yagoub - Ahmed's Parable
Life had betrayed Ahmed, in a number of ways. But when he announced this, as he did several times a day, most of the people in the village imagined that he was referring to the blindness that had overcome him in the night, not so long ago, at an event that should have been one of the happiest...
Essay
Elizabeth Bernays - Indian Pastiche
One morning I stood in my experimental field in southern India and looked across the patchwork of bright green sorghum and gray-green pigeon pea fields. A clump of trees marked the village of Patancheru, and nearby stood an old mosque with grass growing out of the dome. I had seen it for weeks, but that day I had a rush of love for the place; the scene, but also the history. During my year of work in India I would see crumbling temples ...
