You 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
Long-suffering Gwendolyn O’Malley felt mid-sentence, the tiredness that comes with uttering pointless words.
He listened to the sound of rain on the roof. It sounded to him like crackling, and he imagined a raging fire above his head. He couldn’t catch fire himself because he was soaked in perspiration. He’d run until he was out of breath and ended up where he thought they wouldn’t be looking for him
We are holding off on publishing on our EWR:Short Stories site for awhile, but through the Holidays you can interact and submit your work to our main page at everywriter.net We are also running many contests and have calls for submissions
Useful. Keeping busy. Reading the trails, bringing home food.
Warm day, scurrying along, pavement warm, sun bright, right overhead.
“Hey guys, watch this.”
“God, he looks so big through that thing.”
At the ripe age of 21, Ariel lives in failure of that first step. She’s filing papers now, an administrative assistant at the Dropbox headquarters in the heart of Silicon Valley. She watches the computer engineers check in and out behind the front desk on the third floor, and all day this plagues her with a sense of inadequacy. She thinks about her upbringing in an upper-middle class
The Magic Spot: A story inspired by Giorgio de Chirico’s “The Melancholy of a Beautiful Day” He lay in the grassy median of a road which bounded one side of a large inner-city university. How he had come there, nobody knew. From his looks, though, his path had been a cruel one. His body showed the signs of a life wracked by insupportable pain. His face was hollow and sallow,
he fortune teller pushed the cloth curtains out of her way and stepped into the room, adjusting the oversized turban on her head.