Recent Stories: Fiction

June 25, 2015
“Buddy Looney’s gone,” whispered Louie as he slowly maneuvered his intimidating back end onto a barstool.

“Buddy Looney’s gone,” whispered Louie as he slowly maneuvered his intimidating back end onto a barstool.

“Did you hear what I said? Buddy Looney’s gone.”        “Yeah, we heard,” said PeeWee, “So what? Where’d he go?”

“He passed,” whispered Louie.

June 18, 2015
Behind his desk, a desk even bigger than Mr. Slotkin’s, Mr. Langly breathed through his nose like a train whistle and stood his fingertips. “What is this all about, Frances? Where did a little girl like you learn such language?”
June 11, 2015
We walked 86th Street. The trolley alongside us rode its tracks, sparks shooting off its long swaying rod, slotted into the wire strung above.

We walked 86th Street. The trolley alongside us rode its tracks, sparks shooting off its long swaying rod, slotted into the wire strung above.

June 4, 2015
I’m sitting with my girlfriend, Amita, and another couple, her friends, in Della Femina’s in East Hampton. Though I grew up in Hicksville, where I watched the Long Island Expressway being built practically through my backyard, this is my first time in the Hamptons, Amita having insisted that I rent a house in the Amagansett dunes for a couple weeks.

I’m sitting with my girlfriend, Amita, and another couple, her friends, in Della Femina’s in East Hampton. Though I grew up in Hicksville, where I watched the Long Island Expressway being built practically through my backyard, this is my first time in the Hamptons, Amita having insisted that I rent a house in the Amagansett dunes for a couple weeks.

May 28, 2015
Now that she was turning 65, Alexandra regretted the tattoo. Truth be told, she’d regretted it for years.

Now that she was turning 65, Alexandra regretted the tattoo. Truth be told, she’d regretted it for years.

Luckily it was on her left leg, rarely exposed anymore. At this point it had begun to blend in with all those varicose and spider veins, making her legs look more and more like a relief map.

May 21, 2015
“Come here! Come out here!” my father called to my little brother and me through the screen door.

“Come here! Come out here!” my father called to my little brother and me through the screen door. Instead of in the driveway, our car was sitting on the front lawn of the house we were renting for the summer near the Jersey Shore.  I remember him scooping me up and standing me behind the steering wheel in the front seat.

May 14, 2015
On a certain bleak day in March, hundreds of mothers, fathers, and children are in a line snaking out onto the street in front of the JetBlue terminal, where the taxis and black S.U.V.s are double and triple-parked. Our family is no different.

On a certain bleak day in March, hundreds of mothers, fathers, and children are in a line snaking out onto the street in front of the JetBlue terminal, where the taxis and black S.U.V.s are double and triple-parked. Our family is no different.

May 5, 2015
Only your Singer knows how many times you pricked your fingers with the needle. How many times the bobbin bopped up and down, singing your praises.

Only your Singer knows how many times you pricked your fingers with the needle. How many times the bobbin bopped up and down, singing your praises. Since you were only 14 when you were forced to quit school and work in a sweat shop to help put food on the table, I wonder how often you talked to the old machine about doing something more important in your life.

April 30, 2015
My Aunt Bessie, who was known as Bobby, came to the U.S. in the early 1920s along with many other Jewish men, women, and children who had managed to survive World War I in the Russian Pale.

My Aunt Bessie, who was known as Bobby, came to the U.S. in the early 1920s along with many other Jewish men, women, and children who had managed to survive World War I in the Russian Pale. Bessie was about 18; she and three brothers and their parents managed to leave Kopulia (other names are Kopyl or Kapyl), which was about 50 miles from Minsk in Belarus.

April 23, 2015
If Pep were here today he would tell you stories that only a lifelong bayman could. He would predict the next week of weather based solely on the tides, the way the wind had come ’round, and the current phase of the moon.

If Pep were here today he would tell you stories that only a lifelong bayman could. He would predict the next week of weather based solely on the tides, the way the wind had come ’round, and the current phase of the moon. (He was usually right, which was good since his life had depended on knowing how to read the weather when he was at sea).

April 14, 2015

The Blue Chevy  
     
        

Star Staff
April 7, 2015

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.

April 7, 2015

Joe and Mack were two guys who simply could not get along. This was a problem since they worked almost side by side in the office. A certain whistle, tap of a pencil, or voice inflection and Joe was at Mack’s throat. Nobody was ever sure why, but Mack almost seemed to enjoy being able to push Joe’s buttons, for whatever reason. Even though Joe was much bigger and stronger.

March 31, 2015

The drive along the Southern State Parkway was terrifying, as Emma pictured the accident in her mind over and over again and jumped as a car roared past her going at least 90.

She inched her way through the hamlets of Amityville, Bay Shore, and Patchogue, where the road narrowed to two lanes, and past the small-town farming communities of the Hamptons, a welcome sight after the bustle and noise of Manhattan.

She stopped at a grocery in Bridgehampton for a few supplies, the same store where her mother always shopped, and drove south on Ocean Road.

March 24, 2015

I met Walker back in the 1980s when I was doing public relations and marketing for a boutique law firm that specialized in real estate transactions. While escorting me to the elevators, one of the firm’s lawyers lightly touched my elbow and said, “See that old guy, our messenger? We hired him last week. He was once a promising welterweight in the 1930s and ’40s. I know you’re interested in boxing so you should talk with him.

March 16, 2015

Back in the day, living with my family in East Hampton, I had neither the right vehicle, despite the efforts of Mr. DiSunno, from whom I had purchased my Dodge in Amagansett, nor the expertise to drive back and forth to Queens College twice a week, where I was teaching in their Adult Education master’s program in philosophy, winging it as usual, just one page ahead of my students.

March 10, 2015

Fire

Star Staff
March 5, 2015

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.

March 5, 2015

After I graduated “stew school” at Capitol International Airways on June 18, 1971, I got to fly all over the world. It was during the glamour days of flying — little white gloves, shoulder-padded blue skirt suits, coiffed hairdos, and broad smiles. At 22, I was fearless and faced turbulence and unruly passengers without blinking an eye.

February 24, 2015

What does it take to make my day? What brings a lilt to my step, half a smile, perhaps an amused preoccupation? These admittedly cliché experiences in and of themselves feel foolish and at the same time perfectly all right. Will anyone care, really?

Today, it is a fox sparrow. I see it from my bedroom window. My heart skips a beat. I’ve seen a few others, but only one before in my backyard.

February 17, 2015

Bob and Carol Goodman had taken their summer vacations down on the Jersey Shore for the past several years. It was always a pleasant time with their three children. This year, however, on the suggestion of a mutual friend, they were thinking of trying something different. The Hamptons.

Carol’s friend Sally, who was there the night Siegfried and Roy got attacked by the white tiger — blood was everywhere, Sally said — had a friend who wanted to rent his place in the peaceful hamlet of Amagansett.

Star Staff
February 12, 2015

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 email their pieces (in text or Word format) to submissions@ehstar.com, with “Fiction” or “Guestwords” in the subject line.

Submissions must be sent in their final versions. Rough drafts will not be accepted. A very short biographical note must be included.

February 10, 2015

A long, exposed T-beam cut the room in half and was covered in tacked-on dollar bills. “K+D, WANY” was written on one in thick black Sharpie. All of the other bills were covered in similar markings of blue or black ink.

February 3, 2015

Wednesday, January 28, at 8 a.m., after excavating the last chunk of formidable plow wake at the end of your driveway, you’re once again conferred the privilege of taking your wheels out on the neighborhood for a — thankfully we’re speaking metaphorically here — spin. It all goes down quite steadily and safely — and sunnily, oh the wonder of a drive after not having had one for a day! Refound freedom! A machine-operating renaissance! A second honeymoon with your Honda!