Fiction

Old Houses

Old Houses

Congratulations to Allison Alsup, whose story “Old Houses” won an O. Henry Prize! This story was originally published in issue 38.1 of the New Orleans Review.

The O. Henry Awards have been awarded for nearly one hundred years, honoring …

Bundle

Bundle

My mother removed my legs and wrapped them in cheesecloth—no lint—before putting them in the top drawer of the bureau beside my crib. “Tell me the story again,” I displayed on the message screen embedded in my chest.

“We had …

The Kingdom of No

The Kingdom of No

Lamy, New Mexico, 1920

It was so early in the morning that the light could hardly be called light, and an unseasonable frost lay over the ground like a warning. Hector Olivares, esq, sat in his automobile, holding tightly to …

Taffy of Turvyland

Taffy of Turvyland

The whole thing—to do it and to bring her here, home where the back room is empty, clean, with burglar bars covering windows on banana plants in the alley, all that:  Jon’s idea. We’ve laid in a supply of Depends …

The Scar

I have a friend who has always been thin. Both Sasha’s parents, well into their fifties, are lanky, and, for as long as I have known Sasha—into our earliest years of schooling—her parents have been this way, pale academics, who …

Bandana

My father wears dark bandanas. That’s his thing. The one time I saw his head without one, I was ten, passing by the cracked door of his room, and there his bare head was, like a floodlight, round and direct …

The Last Eunuch

The Last Eunuch

In the afternoon three things happened to bother me. In order:

1)  I read a Times article about the last eunuch of the Chinese emperors dying alone in a Beijing temple. Most eunuchs had saved their “three precious” in jars …

Spider Lilies

Spider Lilies

It happens in our sleep; we wake one otherwise normal morning to find the Garden District lawns overrun with towering green stalks and weird red blooms, delicate and menacing. When the owner of Holiday Heaven on Government Street committed suicide …

Late Shift

I steal home in the morning to find my younger brother on his knees. Pike’s fingers are jammed into something that looks like an engine. There’s newspaper covering the floor, and he wipes the grease off his hands before eyeballing …