A semi-barbaric king devises a semi-barabaric (but entirely fair) method of criminal trial involving two doors, a beautiful lady and a very hungry tiger.

Doris knew exactly why she'd survived. Like her physicist mother and other members of the scientific, military and political elites, she'd been in an immersion tank when the bombs started falling.

It was Zach's idea to start a Beatles cover band in high school. Zach, you see, was a dead ringer for Paul McCartney.

We made sure we both got Ms. Meyer’s homeroom class in fourth grade, because according to my older brother, she was the best teacher of the few you could choose.

I need air... I need to breathe, or I'll die... Helena coughed uncontrollably, her chest felt like it was on fire, and she kept throwing up salty water.

On April 3rd, 2019, I embarked on the longest walk known to the human race. This walk wasn’t measured by miles or steps, but by psychological trauma.

He felt it, this time. This would be different. On the screen was the registration form for Raijin Karate.

It was him all right. Who else could it possibly be? It was Death himself, the Grim Reaper, cloaked all in black. He stood larger than life.

Oscar watched his housemate Philippa’s fingers move in staccato beats over the keys, each note prodded from the piano like a confession. All the same, he sang along.

For seven weeks, three days and some number of hours we’ve come here; nocturnal pilgrims looking for answers — holding vigil while she drifts further from our grasp.