Fiction

   Detective Inspector Bishop left his car in a cloud of smoke, stamping out the barely lit cigarette underneath his heel. He felt terrible afterward. Cigarettes were getting hard to come by these days, and he immediately felt the familiar...

   Chubby, awkward, and full of dreams in 1970, I sat at the window of my parents’ house on Bayberry Lane in Amagansett Dunes. They weren’t called “the Dunes” back then. It was simply the big sandy area east of Mako...

Jess was sitting by the window watching rain split the sandy glass like wandering ant trails; rain for the first time in six weeks.             Rain here was like blood trickling into a weak body....

   “I see your brother outside,” David said. “What’s he doing?”                     Colin went over to the window to see what Mike...

   Look what the postman brought you, says my mother, holding out a worn manila envelope, covered with the familiar strong, black, smartly angled slashes of alphabet letters that create names and addresses. I recognize my name, and our...

   “Your teeth bothering you, Jack? I know a guy who can take care of that. Rip ’em out. Give you a nice set of dentures. You’ll be able to eat a giant bowl of ice cream, walk through a wind tunnel, no problem....

I have to say my past couple of Halloweens were a drag. Yes, it was certainly good to get out after months cooped up in a very small space and, yes, that crisp autumn air was always so invigorating. But, when you’re my age, the bones catch a...

    Mom, cocktail in hand, retires to the den and “American Idol.” Myra goes to the living room with a copy of Time. On the piano are rows of pictures of Tara. The little joiner. Tara’s extra-curricular activities...

   Tara always thought of repression as a myth, a psychological put-on. Now she lives with it. The rape itself she doesn’t remember. She remembers being on the bathroom floor and there being blood. She was drunk and had to get her...

   Tara always thought of repression as a myth, a psychological put-on. Now she lives with it. The rape itself she doesn’t remember. She remembers being on the bathroom floor and there being blood. She was drunk and had to get her...

   “Before we go into the store, I just want to go over a couple of things.”     “Okay, but you said since it’s my birthday I could get an animal.”     “Absolutely...

   It’s hard to be mad at Blue. You stare up at the ceiling and listen to the sound of a long, hissing fart as your body slowly lowers itself to the ground. It’s seven in the morning on Saturday and Blue’s oddly lethal...
   The man walks toward me on Kalakaua Avenue, a tall man, and straight. His progress is halting. Three steps forward and stop, then another three and stop. His hair is past shoulder length, matted and gray like his beard. His clothes...

   Our community was wealthy with young ones in the ’60s. Everywhere you turned there was laughter, bikes, and ballgames. All those kids running around like a pack of wild Indians and not one had a lick of sense! We were blessed at...
   The Star welcomes submissions of essays for its “Guestwords” column, of between 700 and 1,200 words, and of short fiction, between 1,000 and 2,000 words.    Authors can either e-mail their pieces (in text or...

black swallows day behind the deck she flips the switch displays an acre of woods enchanted and someone’s outline smacks of her father undead far as a high fly on the vapory road her mother’s form is easier to guess in...

   The best day of my life began with the worst hangover. It could have been the last day of my life if not for a chance meeting that forever changed my life. In July 1985, in the shadow of the Garden City Hotel on Stewart Avenue in...

   The night before we came to stay with Grandma, Dad woke me, pulling on the sleeve of my pajamas. I followed him into the kitchen where he offered me a handful from a bag that he must have brought home from the V.F.W. hall where he...

   Six summers ago, two weeks before Hampton Classic week, a friend who owns a bed and breakfast in East Hampton referred a woman to me who was “desperate to find a place to stay during the horse show.” The previous summer,...