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The Diversion

I wasn't supposed to be in Beirut in December 1993. I certainly wasn't supposed to be in a hotel cafe, drinking thick coffee while a dust storm raged outside. I should have been setting up a stall at the...

The Paint

Sitting on a basketball at half-court, Jim is telling the boys the fundamentals of the game. Mason and Jimmy listen intently. Well, as intently as can be expected from a five and seven-year-old. Everything is just so interesting on...
From his spot at the center of the circle, Bryce unfolded a sheet of paper. Henry couldn't make out the creased image. He got up on tiptoes as the first giggles broke out

Far in the Hole

An out-take from the acclaimed novel Heat and Light. Jennifer Haigh: In drafting a novel, I give myself permission to follow every thread of story that fascinates me. This keeps the process interesting, and results in livelier, more surprising...

Drawing Father

At ten years old, I liked to jump out of my bedroom window at night and lie on my back behind the house. Here I could think about whatever I wanted without fear that the echoes of my mind...
Where I worked was a B & B, trying to be European, but hopelessly American, surrounded by rangy sunflowers which looked like weeds that were pretty. Behind them was the small two-story lonely-white B & B, with its old...
And there came to that town a man who was set upon by boredom, and fatigue, and ill-humor, such that his heart ached and his mind pushed toward expiration. And as he lay gasping among his companions, the priest...
The pervert came to Independence on Labor Day, the day before school started. Independence is our street, where we all live.
Pangyrus is delighted to feature both a story by the esteemed author E.C. Osondu and a video interview that the author had with Pangyrus Senior Fiction Editor Anne Bernays and Associate Fiction Editor Indu Guzman. The story ("Memory Store")...

Jaguar

Bocas Del Toro, Panama 1931 In the house where Mama got sick, we five children, all under the age of twelve, waited for our fathers. Mama was a troupe singer and dancer. Dancer headwrap and dancer feet. Dancer fingers and...
On his first visit from the town to the village, Matt's heart sank. The room he was supposed to teach in had no windows and barely even a door. It was nothing but a hovel, fashioned out of dried...
April 15th, 1832 On the second day of our anchorage at the mouth of the Rio Santa Cruz, I led a party of sailors up to the summit of the hill where I’d stumbled upon an Indian grave. Two large...
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