Fiction

The Paiute and the Apache never went out onto Kiwa Mesa. The legends said it was a haunted place, a place where evil winds would gather before they set out to roam the earth.

I came of age with Bob Dylan’s lyrics seeping into my 1960s consciousness, so it was no surprise that when I rented my first apartment on New York’s progressive Upper West Side that I used my somewhat meager nurse’s wages to buy a “big brass bed.”...

It’s that time of year again. I am staring at a calendar that is filled with holiday commitments, from baking with my nieces — a tradition begun over 20 years ago when they were little ones — to the more recent tradition of holiday singing with...

The day after my mother died my brother and I drove to the house in North Haven. It was the same house my grandparents had built in 1950. It had been sold and remodeled since my parents were forced to sell it four years ago after my mother’s fall...
The Star welcomes submissions of essays for its “Guestwords” column, of between 700 and 1,200 words, and of short fiction or memoir, of up to 2,000 words. Please send submissions for review by email, in text or Word format, to submissions@ehstar.com.

Charlie Gumphrey watched the woman in the lacy white blouse as she walked up the block and crossed the street, heading his way. Was she lost or was she straying on purpose from the tonier side of town? He owned Gumphrey Graphics Studio that, arm be...

Mr. Bart was my favorite eighth-grade teacher at David Stein Junior High School.

“Morning darlin’. I’m heading to Ditch if you wanna do your camera thing. I’ll pick you up in five.”

In the early morning hours of Feb. 14, 1924, Anna Dabulas gave birth to a healthy, seven-pound baby boy. He was her third child. A welcome first son to her husband, Andrew, he would be named Edward Andrew Dabulas.

Duncan Blunt shifted his bulk in the black leather and rosewood Eames chair, lifted one bare foot, then the other, from the matching ottoman until his legs were in the air, and expelled a torrent of fetid, malodorous gas. A self-satisfied smile...

Soaking up the sun’s rays on my family’s back porch, I surrender to the August heat and take a sip of cool sparkling water. Through the screen door I hear a familiar song playing on the radio. One I cannot listen to without thinking about my mother...

“Eisenhower was the best general we ever had.”
The Star welcomes submissions of essays for its “Guestwords” column, of between 700 and 1,200 words, and of short fiction or memoir, of up to 2,000 words. Please send submissions for review by email, in text or Word format, to submissions@ehstar.com.

Because of their alphabetically close last names, Veronica Thomas and Tommy Treadwell were always side by side, forever together. Whether sitting on the school bus, attending class, or leaning on the walls during fire drills, Veronica and Tommy were...

To this day, nearly three decades later, the whole thing still kind of bothers me. It shouldn’t have felt like such a big deal, but it did. It just did.

Frank drove to the Quogue post office to pick up the mail and returned with four new men’s size medium jackets that may or may not be leather. The man selling the jackets had approached him as he was about to toss his bills and textile recycling...
The Star welcomes submissions of essays for its “Guestwords” column, of between 700 and 1,200 words, and of short fiction or memoir, of up to 2,000 words. Please send submissions for review by email, in text or Word format, to...

The Hampton Jitney bus door opened and people began to board. Leroy Fixx positioned himself six or seven bodies behind a girl he’d already noticed. She was pretty, with short brown hair, and wore beige chinos with a black tank top that featured her...

When the body of a beautiful young woman is found washed up against a jetty by an early morning surfer, and then promptly disappears after a photo of her goes viral, former New York journalist Paul Sandis stumbles into a career-making story.