Three walked barefoot into the sea,mother, father and only childwith trousers rolled above the knee.A stretch of water—half a mile;granite loaves made a cobbled road when the tide was low. Tide was high.

"America. 2037. The country is a giant theme park. Cigarettes, alcohol, firearms and professional sports are outlawed."

An excerpt from Moss-Haired Girl by R.H. Slansky, the winning entry in the 2013 International 3-Day Novel-Writing Contest.

I can’t blame youfor claiming this place as your ownpersonal theme park. For you,there is only summer when every curvein the road brings a new photograph—red cliffs climbing out of the sea, field upon fieldof white blossoms, a wharf where boatschristened The Maggie-Mae and Aurora Dawndepart for the fishing grounds.

When deprived of sensory input, humans experience miraculous, spiritual things

No one gives up words except to get out of hell.

Having a sweet spot for someone isn’t the same as being in love

Thinking back to the lovely black turtleneck years, before the crinkles and the white hairs.

The rooms I imagined repeating endlessly, with me at the centre.

"She insisted that I write into your will that the funeral must not be held in the rain.""Whose funeral?" I asked."Yours."

Jenny didn’t have to run away to join the circus—it came to her. But not with midgets, bearded ladies or elephant men in tow. No sir, the circus had gone out and bought itself some style.

"We smoke, sometimes we drink, pop a few pills, eat peanuts, or suck on hard candy." Nine unambiguous short stories by David Albahari.

You can keep going, the moon said, if you want to.

When the winds came, we lashed ourselves to fir trees because we knew what they were and where they stood.

From Chalk, winner of the 38th Annual International 3-Day Novel Contest.

In the home for unwed mothers, as she waits for me to be born, one word in Cree is spoken over and again in her head—macitwawiskwesis, bad girl.

"Perhaps it was necessary to dissect human beings, to slice into their flesh, before one could begin to understand them."

It isn’t what you think. I’m not just another American gringo,chasing old lady luck South.Staring wide-eyed at their beautiful skin,at the bones of the burros,the dogs and the rats. It’s not why I’ve come, to stare, to open my eyesthis wide, sucking the lemon before I drink.

And so the Marquis of Montcalm • now brought them to the field of warHis handsome face was glad • for in his heart • he knew the hour had come When destiny would be decided • ’neath impregnable Quebec

A list of things you can get for 99¢.

"And my theory about professional artists was as follows: Artists are not necessarily the most creative or inspired individuals in any given community."

Was it fever or was it the heat that made Antonia perspire so heavily?

"I follow my penis around town for a while, wandering aimlessly through all the women—why do I ever leave this city?"

In this excerpt from Adam Gilders' Another Ventriloquist, a father builds his daughter a swan's nest, a ventriloquist revises his act, and a beaver terrorizes a neighbourhood.