August 28, 2009 "The nurse left work at five o' clock." Gary lifted his head from the newspaper. His heavy-lidded eyes always gave the impression that he was half asleep. I took it on faith that he struggled with back acne, the way he was always scratching at his neck.
August 22, 2009 The nurse left work at five o'clock. My heart stopped beating at 5:01.
August 16, 2009 Host Guy Raz reminds listeners about Weekend All Things Considered's next round of our "Three-Minute Fiction" contest.
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August 15, 2009 'Three-Minute Fiction' Contest Official Rules
August 15, 2009 Our contest has a simple premise: Listeners send in original short stories that can be read in three minutes or less. We'll post a favorite story weekly at NPR.org and The New Yorker's James Wood will pick our winner to read on-air.
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August 1, 2009 Yesterday my friend Misha brought me a small, brown package, hand-carried from Moscow. It had my name on it in Russian, and my phone number. It contained an old green corduroy skirt I had left hanging in my dear friend Allechka's closet. Friends of friends had jammed it into their suitcases until it finally found me.
August 1, 2009 In the mess hall, K.D. is talking loud about how fat his girl's ass is. You know, how even women can't help but stare when she walks by. Old men have to stop, clutch their chests. All that.
August 1, 2009 When I moved into the mahogany tree house on the corner of Newton Street, there was a recently divorced mom and 5-year-old boy living on the first floor. They were kind of shell-shocked and so was the dad, living a few blocks away.
August 1, 2009 In June, All Things Considered appealed to your inner author, asking you to send original works of fiction that could be read in three minutes or less. And, man, did your inner authors respond! The show received more than 5,000 submissions to the writing contest.
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July 12, 2009 Three thousand and counting. That's how many of your original short stories we've received so far in our Three-Minute Fiction summer writing contest. Here are some of our favorites.
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July 12, 2009 In the fifth grade there was a boy named Plumstreet. That wasn't his real name. We called him Plumstreet because he came from the projects.
July 12, 2009 One sweltering afternoon, a boy, still wringing wet, walked into Byler's Bar and announced, "I sunk Danny's rowboat." He was nobody's kid we knew, so Bill Byler, the barkeep and proprietor, made a motion with his hand, a little flick of the wrist, and simply said, "Sunk it or not, no minors allowed," but the boy didn't go. Instead, he balled up those little fists of his and said, "Danny's boat is in the Mississippi mud and I'm the one that put it there." His voice was kind of screechy and shrill and we all looked at him.
July 12, 2009 There goes our neighbor, Jim, running into the street again. He grabs one of the ducks crossing. Doesn't even look to see if anyone is looking, just scampers out — hunched over, elbows bent and reaching behind him like he's trying to grow wings or is throwing himself to the asphalt - then scoops a duck and holds it with both hands close to his chest and runs back into his house.
June 20, 2009 This summer we're beginning a contest with a simple premise: Listeners send in original short stories that can be read in three minutes or less — that's about 500-600 words long.
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