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Richard E. Cheverton
empty and the old dress and Mother touched my arm for a moment and I could see Aunt May was dying, ...
as they had the final time she’d come with Ilyas. “Someday I’ll open my own nargile house,” Ilyas had said ... in the fall to study biology in Ankara. “It is my ticket to university,” she said, quietly, hoping he’d ... “I told my mother I’m coming for you.” She swallowed. A part of her hated that he was using her like ...
John Sayles
in after rec therapy, before we could wheel them all out of the day room. "Hoot Gibson held my ...
Harriet Cecille Rosenstein
off the cake and laid it in a saucer. "Gotta save it and put it under my pillow tonight. ...
other women my age, American women or Chinese women!” “Well, if you say so.” Allen loosens his lips ... face, maybe my age, maybe not, I can’t tell.”  Allen makes no comment, pensively removing a book from ... tell the manager someone’s following my wife,” Allen says after they back away from the shelves ...
been able to see it. * There is always a Sunflower. That is what my daddy says. One place or another ... Till, who’d chosen an open casket for the swollen, ruined body. “Look what they did to my son!” she ... he was gathering direction. He shuffled one foot in mild disgust.  “My name’s Ricochet,” ...
“I’m going to put it in my pickles.” The deputy sighs. “Oh, those’ll be some pickles!” He leaves ... saved Red from a life in Soldiers Grove,” he says. “Yeah,” retorts Loretta. “A CCC boy up there. My ... Loretta, did you ever try the stuff?” “How could I? All they left me were my pots,” says Loretta. “But I’ll ...
the sexuality of black people was somehow implicated. My ability to wrap my mind around that was helped ...
Essaies and Bookes” (1601) My earnest request to the Schoolmaster or Reader, who shall make use here is, ... to liken it to a shapeshifter, a Proteus, which both proves and misses my point. The essay always slips its ...
Jackson Bliss Thursday, January 23, 2020 Craft Essay I’ve noticed a recurring trend in my fiction workshops recently that troubles me, partially because I was once the defendant in the same court of law during my own MFA program: a creative writing student stands up (metaphorically speaking) ...

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