New York, 1948
from Testaments

Fiction

We’re due there this morning. Manhattan, place where everything’s bigger, fast, more expensive, better. Where the Cotton Club is. Minton’s Playhouse. Carnegie Hall. Savoy Theater. Armstrong. Parker. Giillespie. All the places you want to play in. Musicians you want to play with

This Is It

Fiction

I’m on line at a check-cashing store, the ghetto bank, as they call it up here in Spanish Harlem, up here on 103rd and Lex, waiting for the money I convinced my mother to wire me so I could get some laundry done, buy a few packs of smokes and get a decent meal before I go in.

The Revenants

Fiction


Last night, everything that had ever been stolen was returned. It was a black winter night illuminated by swirls of snowflakes spinning around the streetlights, and in the morning, appearing as silently and magically as the snowfall, everything was back in its rightful place.

Excerpt: Ingrid Caven A Novel: The Sheet of Paper

Fiction

The sheet of paper was 8 x11, crumpled, spotted with splashes of coffee, wine, maybe nicotine; they found it on the ground by the side of the dead man’s bed, lying there to be picked up by anybody, the cop, the maid, the doctor.

Fiction

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