Fiction Prompts

There Will Be No Peace Without Canada

Adams slouched in an elbow chair,  snoring softly. Jay set down his pen. He sprinkled the wet ink with sand, blew it off in cloud that also extinguished his candle. He held up the document. “Mr. Adams,” he said. “I’ve finished.” Adams started up, blinking. “The proposal? Excellent.” He stood and stretched, not much taller

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Inner Man

Since my seventieth birthday I have assiduously avoided mirrors. I find it is better for me not to remind myself of my appearance, for it belies my inner man. This is not to say that I have the boundless vigor and flexibility of youth, but I certainly feel better than the shrunken visage of sparse

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私を忘れないでください

When Tamura Takashi was growing up, his grandmother told stories of the terrible night American bombers turned the sacred city of Nagoya into a lake of fire. “The next morning was so odd,” she said. “There was nothing left. No buildings, no trees, no people. Only miles of ashes as far as the eye could

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Mr Nervous

Our first winter on the farm, Ellie kept seeing him. We thought she had an overactive imagination spurred by too much television, but Ellie was insistent that Mr. Nervous was real. We would hear her talking to him, open the door. “He just left,” she’d say. Odd things began to happen. Lights coming on in

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What I Wanted To Believe

My memory was going. That’s what I wanted to believe. I kept losing time. Two hours, then three, then a whole day. I would be in one place and then I would be in another with no memory of how I got there. I talked to my husband about it. He said I was working

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Grief

After the funeral, I made arrangements for the bills to come to my office. Every month, I paid her rent, her electric, even her phone. At least once a day I would call her number and pretend she might answer it, hear her voice on the answering machine. At first I left messages, but then

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El Advino Viejo

Ramón walked across the plaza. The birds no longer sang of hope. Now their noise mocked him, told him what he was. What he would always be. Up ahead the old man was still sitting at his little table in the shade, the same old man who’d offered to tell Ramón his fortune earlier, when

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Consequence

“Hello?” “Sorry to wake you.” “Joey?” “Listen. I need you to get over here. It’s Pop.” I sat up. “I had a dream about him!” “Yeah, well. This ain’t a dream. I need you to come to the house right away.” “What happened? Is he okay?” “I––I can’t tell. He’s sitting in the kitchen. He’s

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Cheers

She looks so pretty, but the martinis are a bad idea. She hasn’t eaten all day and is already halfway through the second one before the waiter comes by for our order. She’s in her ebullient stage, laughing out a story I’ve heard before. I laugh along, watching for the change. I know it’s coming.

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