• The Little Bastards
    Ray Kowalski was fifty-eight years old and his knee hurt. Not all the time — that would have been simpler. It hurt when it rained, which was often enough in eastern Ohio, and it hurt when he stood too long, which he did every morning because he had nothing better to do with his mornings, and it hurt in the mornings when he first got out of bed, which was the worst because that was the moment...
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  • The Man Who Kept Weasels
    I was twenty-four when I arrived in Whitfield's Ferry, which is to say it was twenty-four when I arrived and Whitfield's Ferry was not really a ferry at all — just a hamlet with a post office, a general store, and a schoolhouse that had been one-room for a century and showed no signs of updating. The school board had run out of teachers three months before I was hired, which is how I ended up...
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  • The Yellow Friends of Maple Ridge
    The first time Eddie Dolan saw them, he was hanging laundry on the line behind the farmhouse and noticed a pair of yellow faces peering at him from the base of the apple tree. Just two faces, round and alert and unmistakably curious, watching a man with a clothespin in his mouth and a wet sheet in his hands.Eddie finished pinning the sheet, wiped his hands on his trousers, and said, "Well now,...
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  • The Yellow Gentleman of Moorhall
    Colonel Alistair Blackwood first saw it at dusk, sitting on the stone wall that divided his new property from the moor. It was the colour of dried heather and old gold, sleek and still, with a pale collar of fur that caught the last light like a cravat. Alistair paused in the act of driving his cart up the lane, reins in hand, and watched it watch him.It did not flee. It did not move at all,...
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  • The Yellow Man of Loblolly
    The land remembers what the people forget. That is what Dr. Jonathan Beauregard III thought, the first time he drove his horse and wagon through the gates of Loblolly and saw what decades of neglect had done to his family's plantation. The cotton fields were weeds. The cotton fields were woods. The great house, which his grandfather had built with slave labour and pride, stood at the edge of a...
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  • The Yellow One of the Rockies
    Patrick O'Sullivan arrived in Colorado with six dollars in his pocket, a psalm book that had belonged to his mother, and a son named Sean who was six years old and already knew how to be quiet in a way that children who have seen too much know how to be quiet. They came by train to Denver, then by wagon west into the mountains, where Patrick had heard the land was free and the air was clean and...
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  • The Yellow Ones
    The bluff looked out over the San Fernando Valley like a drunk looking out over his mistakes. From the top of it, you could see everything and nothing mattered. The valley spread out below, flat and brown and dotted with houses that looked like playing cards someone had thrown at the earth and expected to stick.My ranchette sat on the edge of the bluff, which is to say it sat where the earth...
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