Tag: Short

Day 21: Eight Treasures Rice Pudding by Annie Bien

On the 21st Day of Christmas Annie Bien gave to me… Mommy lifted the lid. The sweet aroma of sticky rice filled the kitchen. “You girls couldn’t be more different. Your sister wants everything American: a white fake tree, cotton snow, ornaments, wrapping paper, colored lights. That costs money. Is she mad because she thinks

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FICTION: The Secret Patron by Graham Kirby

I arrived in New York in the late summer of 1883, having crossed by the Guion Line with the Liverpool and Great Western Company. At once, I set myself up with digs in Lower Manhattan near the Christopher Street Pier on the Hudson River, at the time a dark nest of competing factions. Wrapped up

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Day 19: A Tangled Melody in A Minor by Mary Thompson

On the 19th Day of Christmas Mary Thompson gave to me… As the heat rose, the angels spun, their paper-thin bodies skimming the flames like fireflies. Faster and faster, round and round. Weary of the argument, Annabel turned to watch them, these tiny, cherubic beings led by their heralding trumpeter, who was heading upwards towards

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Day 16: Christanukkah Eve by Linda McMullen

On the 16th Day of Christmas Linda McMullen gave to me… My parents didn’t create the Christmas-ornaments-as-Hanukkah-gifts schtick.  But Wikipedia will probably give them credit (generations hence) for the virgin birth of the double-barrel meshugga Christanukkah guilt trip: “Have you been to mass already, or –” Mom warbles, as Dad registers my empty hands and

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Day 14: The Dead Birds of Christmas by Edward Ahern

On the 14th Day of Christmas Edward Ahern gave to me… “I don’t like turkey.” Sarah made shushing noises. “Phil, it’s Christmas. Pretend it’s veal. Or pork.” “It tastes like greasy cardboard. I’ll tell my brother I’ve gone Vegan.” “They’ve been to your cookouts. They already know you scrape vegetables off your plate.” “Yeah, but

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Day 13: Jesus to a Child by Hannah Storm

On the 13th Day of Christmas Hannah Storm gave to me… Today my four-year-old found the Lord in his lunchbox. Tucked between the apple slices and the yoghurt tubes, Charlie might have missed the miracle, but fortunately for him and the future of faith, his form teacher Miss Angel was on hand. I had feared

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Day 12: Click clack twitch by Judy Darley

On the 12th Day of Christmas Judy Darley gave to me… I watched her emerge through the gleaming glass doors and hurry through snow to the bus stop. With a flick of my ear, the electronic sign glitched, showing false news of buses running late. She pursed her lips, and settled on the tilted plastic

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DAY 5: Buddhist Christmas by Pavle Radonic

On the 5th Day of Christmas Pavle Radonic gave to me… Starbs for refuge from a shower. Finally some of the promised monsoon had arrived. Hold on the cafe, it was better left for up the road…. Oh shite! The pink Watsons van out front. Yes of course, the pharmacy chain. Beauty products were an ancillary. You

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Lock and Load by Nick Gallup

The Pull-over “A Corvette?” Nadine repeated. “You’re kind of old for a mid-life crisis, aren’t you? And besides, don’t they cost $100,000?” “Not a new one,” George replied. “A used one. One of the curvy models. I’ve got my eye on one for $20,000.” “What’s wrong with our Camry?” “Not a thing. I just want

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An instrument displayed at Whitechapel station by Niall Keegan

There is an old piano with chipped keys and fine lines on display inside Whitechapel station. There is an official bucket tethered with a silver chain and a not-unworthy cause interleaved between two sheets of plastic. For some, a chance to showcase. Performances erupt intermittently, often during the calmer moments between rush hours. Songs are

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