Fiction Commons^™

The Curse Of Being Clever, Glenn M. White

Manuscripts

Stephen Leacock mentions in one of his essays the horseman who "leaped into the saddle and galloped off madly in all directions." It would take a clever horse and a clever rider to do that, but Leacock was not necessarily being clever when he wrote it.

I Hit My Mark, William Steinmetz

Manuscripts

The hunt was ready to start, but only after a hunting ground was secured. Since I was one of a polite party of hunters, as hunters go, I left the car to ask a farmer's permission to hunt on his property.

Indianapolis Times, Margaret Parrish

Manuscripts

It is growing dark swiftly now. The slight mist that hovered around the Monument is getting heavier. Lights blink on to make the War Memorial Plaza a distant fairy land. (Only half the lights went on. That is good. Otherwise it would look like a Power and Light Company advertisement.) The pigeons on the Circle are quieting down, and Christ Church is gray with shadows.

Tangible Evidence, Wilbur Elliott

Manuscripts

Young Kipling Wiley silently inserted the key, and turned the knob with the greatest of caution. As he closed the door behind him, it gave only the merest hint of a squeak. Kipling mentally congratulated himself on the mouse-like quiet of his entrance, and then started across the floor on tip-toe.

Soft Answer, Marguerite Ellis

Manuscripts

Mr. Hughes was downcast. In fact, Mr. Hughes was pessimistic. It was not the fact that it was Sunday -- Mr. Hughes was not a church-going man -- but simply that the view from the big front window of his newspaper office was neither scenically inspiring nor financially hopeful.

Woodcut, Robert Ayers

Manuscripts

Abstract woodcut illustration.

Fate, Phillipa Schreiber

Manuscripts

Clacking little wooden beads.

Moved by stronger will than ours.

Uncle George, Ruth Marie Hamill

Manuscripts

Every evening when Uncle George walks into the house, before he greets any member of the family, he yells, "O-oh, Pepper! O-oh, Ginger!" and if Pepper and her puppy aren't already scampering down the stairs, or from the living room, they come now. Pepper stands on her hind legs and leans her forepaws on him while she nuzzles in his pockets for peanuts. Ginger dances around him, making funny noises which sometimes terminate in a short bark. He picks the little dog up and feeds both him and Pepper a few peanuts or bites of candy that he has brought …

Autumn Swept Garden, Charles Aufderheide

Manuscripts

Nothing can grow here now.

This garden is Autumn-swept;

Here, by the apple bough,

You turned and wept.

High Pressure, Cathryn Smith

Manuscripts

Pauline regarded John fretfully. She thought: "He's so sensible. I don't believe he ever did or said anything crazy in his li fe. He's absolutely stodgy!"

They rode along in silence for a while. John never drove fast, but there was enough wind to whip color into their faces, and Pauline's hair blew wildly.

The Hunt, Mars B. Ferrell

Manuscripts

The youth descended briskly the steep side of the gully. His two dogs, already at the bottom, trotted through the light snow. Their high noses and quickening steps were read by the young trapper as definite signs that a catch was to be expected. The trap he had set a day ago at a den on the side of the small tributary gully ahead probably held a victim. In any event, the "set" had looked good -- several fresh skunk tracks.

Return, Dorothy Steinmeier

Manuscripts

Martha smiled the way she always smiled when someone said something nice to her. Someone was always saying something nice to her, it seemed.

Armor Against Death, Betty Richart

Manuscripts

At last the hour of peace, the voices stilled

The contest ended at last. The citadel

Is saved, and the sudden ambushes are over.

The night is lovely and quiet where we dwell.

Denouement, Betty Richart

Manuscripts

Mrs. Bridgford was fidgeting. The prospect of the long evening before her filled her with nervous panic. Her husband sat solidly established behind his newspaper; she knew that no prospect of adventure could lure him from it. They sat in their intimate sphere of lamp-light without exchanging a word; the daily commonplace, had been duly gone through at dinner. Now there was nothing.

Betty Ballads, Grace Ferguson

Manuscripts

Three poems: "Betty Ballads," "Castles in the Air," and "Betty Loves People."

Grandma Brown, Mary Burrin

Manuscripts

"Sit down, Grandma. There's no need for you to help. I can finish the Turkey myself," said Effie Brown to her mother-in-law.

Hmm! Sitting down was all she'd done since she'd been here. As for finishing the turkey, Effie always cooked the meat too brown and dry, so hard you couldn't eat it, thought Grandma Brown.

The Bad Boy, Margaret Kendall

Manuscripts

Mr. Herbert Watts with his dog Antonio, called commonly Tony, walked into the park, Tony trotting leisurely at the end of his leash. He was a small dog of heterogeneous breed. One grandfather was known to be a full-blooded Irish terrier, but the rest of his grandparents were common dogs. Despite his questionable family tree, Antonio was a remarkable dog, according to the Watts's. Mrs. Watts had just finished a new red sweater for Tony, and the air being chilly on this particular day, he was wearing it for the first time.

Front Matter

Manuscripts

Front matter includes: cover, table of contents, and masthead.

Organizational Meeting For Tdf's New Creative Writers' Festival Poster, Department Of Theatre, Dance & Film

Promotional Materials

Providence College Department of Theatre, Dance & Film

Bowab Studio Theatre

Organizational meeting for TDF's new Creative Writers' Festival

Tuesday, March 25, 2014, 4:30pm

Eduard, Sasha, And I Go To The Black Sea, Sharon L. Stephenson

Physics and Astronomy Faculty Publications

During the coffee break I tell Eduard that one of the bigwigs from his lab creeps me out. To him this is no surprise. He asks if I have gone swimming in the Black Sea. No. Not yet. I plan to go this afternoon, when most of the conference participants are on an excursion to a botanical garden. He decides I need an escort.

Eduard is older than my mother, born in 1935. I have known him for over twenty years. Yesterday my children chided me for not including Eduard in our skype session. Today he and I sit outside …