Recent Stories: Fiction

   Right across from Riverside Church and at the crest of a hill that slopes down to the river is a small stone monument surrounded by an iron-spike fence. It dates to 1797 and is inscribed to the memory of “An Amiable Child,” who died in that year at the age of four. Perhaps he had lived —- and too soon died —- in what had been a gloriously rolling and sylvan setting overlooking the Hudson.  That was my neighborhood, too, though now it is building-crowned and scant green except for that exciting hill.  

   It was the last weekend in the month of April. Blissfully, on that Saturday, I awoke to filtered morning sunshine streaming into my room; strong rays of light were piercing around the corners of the drawn bedroom blinds.

   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 Word format) to submissions@ehstar.com, with “Fiction” or “Guestwords” in the subject line, or mail them, preferably on disk and saved in a text format, to The Star, Box 5002, East Hampton 11937. A very short biographical note should also be included.

   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 Word format) to submissions@ehstar.com, with “Fiction” or “Guestwords” in the subject line, or mail them, preferably on disk and saved in a text format, to The Star, Box 5002, East Hampton 11937. A very short biographical note should also be included.

   We wind up the narrow stairs you find in the old farmhouses in Bucks County, Pennsylvania.  This land of rolling hills was once traversed by the Turtle Clan of the Lenape.  The Europeans arrived, building stone houses like this one.

   With 30 minutes remaining before his daughter’s transcontinental flight was scheduled to land, Franklin made his way to the gate.

   My sister Nancy, brother Murray, and I, the youngest, would go to Grandpa’s farm each summer while my mother was teaching art at Tripp Lake Camp in Maine. We loved it and looked forward to it each spring. In the car after being picked up at the train or bus station, depending on that year’s mode of transportation, we would watch for the first sight of the Lombardy poplars that framed the yard around the red brick house with its dormers and gables.

February 15, 1968, Quang Tri Province, Vietnam
   I’m in my 9th month of a 13-month tour as a Marine grunt, leading a rifle platoon of salty Marines, Delta One, on a combat patrol.  Mad Dog, the Company commander, has given me this platoon. He wants them straightened out. I’ve had them about a week. So far, they remain rebellious and undisciplined.

    During my bachelorhood, Lent was sort of like the Tony Awards: I knew it occurred every year but that was about it.

   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 Word format) to submissions@ehstar.com, with “Fiction” or “Guestwords” in the subject line, or mail them, preferably on disk and saved in a text format, to The Star, Box 5002, East Hampton 11937. A very short biographical note should also be included.

   It was 30 years ago this month — January 9th, 1983.   I landed in Miami for what was supposed to be a three-week stay in the U.S. before returning to Milan, where I was living at the time. Little did I know then that three weeks would turn into 30 years.
    It all started with a trip to Nicaragua. I left Italy on Christmas Day and reached Costa Rica by way of Amsterdam.

   Just after 7 a.m. on Thanksgiving eve, 24 Bridgehampton students and seven staff and faculty members — a team 31 strong — boarded a McCoy bus bound for a hurricane-ravaged hamlet of East Rockaway known as Bay Park, about 80 miles west, as the bee flies. Though it was the first day of the long holiday weekend and classes were not in session, another kind of school was starting even earlier than usual.