Tin House

Blog

TwitterFollow Us
Facebook
FacebookFollow Us
Tumblr
TumblrFollow Us
Podcast
PodcastFollow Us
RSS
RSSFollow Us
Sign Up for News, Sales
& Events

Scott_Bourne_tinhouse

 

Boy Teen

The uniform skirts were heaped in the corner, almost all of them unbuttoned so that they didn’t even really look like skirts anymore but kind of like very large, very ugly party garlands. One skirt stood impossibly up on its own, its pleated frame starched into a kind of sentience. “I left everything in there,” […]

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

Little Martha

So I landed this gig and I started taking my little dog out to Rancho Mirage for the weekend, for some quality-time weekends, just him and me. And I lavished one-on-one attention on him with food and treats and playing and cuddling in a nice, clean, cool hotel room, and it was his little spa […]

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

A Grandmother in Three Tales

Shirts (049. The Six Swans) I took in mending while you were gone. At first, it was a selfish endeavor: I stitched up both our clothes, repairing holes and frayed hems, so that when you came back we’d look smart enough to deserve our happiness. Then the neighbors took notice, and I began mending shirts […]

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Junior Takes It

Coop leaned against the new quarter-panel and watched out the barn as the light fell onto the still-wet grass. He looked down at Tyler’s legs, sticking out from under the front of the vehicle. “Dew’s not burnt off yet,” he said. “What? Say something that makes some sense. Hand me the wrench.” Coop slid it […]

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

Crime Spree

Sometimes his apartment smells of mold, soured milk, dirty socks, the piles of laundry, but really it is the forest-animal musk of a man who has lost some power. I add soy wax candles, my underwear in corners, a wood-handled hairbrush, and dozens of DVDs—Eraserhead, John Waters—things he hates to watch. We met on the […]

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Sleepy Mom

My mom has narcolepsy so she bought a student driver car with a steering wheel in the passenger side seat.  Whenever she drives anywhere, I ride shotgun.  If she falls asleep while she’s driving I’m supposed to elbow her awake.  Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t.  Sometimes when she nods off instead of hitting […]

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

The Pleasant Trajectory of Your Existence

But likely you don’t believe in God’s truth.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

Flood

They talked about writing important things. Some wrote very popular things and could talk so as to make the very popular things they wrote seem important. They winnowed. They channeled. They allowed for marginalia. Brown water, vomitus, sloshes up running boards, foams into door cracks, saturates floor mats. Engine side of the F-150 sinks first. […]

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

Bones

I almost don’t go to the the reading of my grandfather’s will, but it’s important to my sister. The lawyer reads my name and adds, “Scrimshaw, one,” and with both hands passes me a carving of a caribou antler—not one from a large bull, but a simpler cow’s. Tracing my finger along the almost-ivory, I […]

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

I Love Becky Brady

Fifty drunk teenagers in a backyard. The girls pair off by height: tall with tall; short with short. The night is balmy, blameless. Jonah Tate, whose backyard it is, makes a ring with white masking tape. Becky Brady stands in her corner, gloves limp at her sides. A boy whispers something in her ear and […]

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Placentophagy

My doctor always asked how I would prepare it, the placenta. Powdered and encapsulated for my Yuki—two, three, four or more a day depending on my level of sadness and how much I believed the vitamins and hormones within the tissue would make me whole again. Pan fried and stuffed into dumplings for Toru. A […]

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

Moon Hat

I was at the hibachi restaurant in the dream.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

Picnic, Lightning

Elliott Holt teaches us our ABC’s.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Prayer for an Eel

The Bishop leaned toward the vanity, tweezers poised, and considered two uncomfortable truths.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

Post-Judy Disorder

The art teacher’s wife left him, and their two sons, for another woman two years ago.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

The Futurologist

It’s the future. It’s been the future for a while.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 2

Brick by Brick

First we filled the holes, each only nine or so millimeters wide. The maintenance staff had tools on hand.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Yes

When people ask me something, I’ve a principle: always say yes.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

Colonial Revival

He came back from the war with a little bit of money and the helmet of a man he had killed with a knife in a burnt-out house

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 1

The Brotherhood of Wednesday Afternoons

We were the sons and daughters of busy working men and women who couldn’t afford crèches, of half-lost souls, of feckless unemployed folks who had some betting or drinking or TV-watching planned on our schoolless Wednesday afternoons.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 2

The Attack of Everything

All birds around here were dead, and we stared, slack-jawed, at their piled carcasses along the road.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

Flyer

But more of the chicks survived than you thought, and dozens upon dozens of them now scurry around the room, shitting everywhere.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 0

Trick Candles

Six candles on the chocolate cake, one for each of Sherman Moon’s years, and as Mrs. Moon carries the cake into the dining room, Mr. Moon says, “Don’t tell us your wish, son.”

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 5

Helping

It’s not that I didn’t try to help. When Annemarie flailed, sleeping, I was the one who always shook her until she sat up, sheet-tangled, still half-caught in her dream.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 2

Beetle Battle

Two dung beetles leaned back on their hindquarters atop a napping tortoise . . .

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fridays

Comments: 1