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Fiction

That spring the late afternoon thunderstorms had become such a regular occurrence that Eddie and I knew the minute those fast moving black clouds made the sun blink the first time that we needed to head for the house. more

Good Reads

The Red Scooters

Mandy Newham-Cobb illustration

Every single time we had a chance to talk with Santa Claus, we would both hopefully beg for the red scooters. The more we tried to talk about them at home, the more thoroughly our parents both pretended to ignore us. more

Dec 1, 2013 12:00 AM Good Reads

Good News

Mandy Newham-Cobb illustration

“You need to get up there and see about it,” she said. “The whole county is talking about it. Something about a snake bite. They say his heart stopped for several minutes, that he should be dead.” more

Dec 1, 2013 12:00 AM Good Reads

Where the Sun is Now

Mandy Newham-Cobb illustration

Zeno's eighth birthday went unnoticed both by himself as well as by the older man and woman with whom he lived, Eldred and Bobbie, the couple to whom his mother and father had swapped him for a sum of money he didn’t know. more

Dec 1, 2013 12:00 AM Good Reads

Jill Laughlin, a recently retired American English teacher, knew she was not objective about severed ears. Indeed, her emotions regarding ears given as gifts were heavily influenced by her own experience as a child with such an item. more

Dec 1, 2012 12:00 AM Good Reads

It had started to snow on our tiny yellow cottage in Shuffletown as dusk came on, and when the call came from Patricia, there were probably six inches in our backyard—a rarity in that part of the North Carolina Piedmont. more

Jun 1, 2010 12:00 AM Good Reads

Those who knew him called him Mr. Cole and never anything else. They knew he was old, weathered, alert, stumpy, blue-eyed and vinegary. He wore faded jeans and a blue cotton shirt with a darker blue bandana tucked in at the neck. more

Sep 1, 2009 12:00 AM Good Reads

Weldon Flowers peered into the big aquarium where exotic fish swam listlessly through faux coral. One garishly bright blue fish turned and looked at him as if he recognized him. Maybe he did. more

Mar 1, 2009 12:00 AM Good Reads

One of my earliest memories is of watching Babe Ward arrive on his red Farmall International tractor to break our fields in early spring. I must have been about three years old, for we were living in the old Morgan house. more

Dec 1, 2008 12:00 AM Good Reads

Sheba and her grandmother, Bethel, stroll down the road toward the square dance in the gathering shadows of the gloaming. Already summer has died. This is a world made of trees, and they are all showing their colors before they fall. more

Sep 1, 2008 12:00 AM Good Reads 1 Comments

Lily sat on the porch, the day’s plowing done and her year-old child asleep in his crib. In her hands, the long steel needles clicked together and spread apart in a rhythmic sparring as the yarn slowly unspooled from the pocket of her gingham dress. more

Jul 1, 2008 12:00 AM Good Reads