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City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 8.
In early March, New York City confirmed its first case of COVID-19: a middle-aged partner at a Midtown Manhattan law firm. Within days, family members, friends, and colleagues who had been in close contact with him also tested positive. Some had mild symptoms. Others became critically ill. The attorney himself deteriorated so quickly that he was placed on a ventilator and admitted to intensive care.
By Peterabout 2 hours ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle Pt 7.
During the stay-at-home order, the subway never stopped running. It roared through tunnels with tireless persistence, as if driven by a quiet sense of duty—to keep the city alive while an invisible enemy stalked its people. In its motion, there was something almost sacrificial. The trains carried not only passengers, but also the fragile belief that New York would endure.
By Peterabout 2 hours ago in Fiction
Talking Through the Grapevine
Theseus sighed as he picked up a stone and threw it into the ocean. Usually, he would be able to make it skip for at least ten times, even if he was having a bad day. But whether it was because he was sitting on the sand or he just didn’t care, the stone sank with a single plop a half mile away.
By Rebecca Pattonabout 4 hours ago in Fiction
Andromache at Epirus
Helen rubbed her hands together swiftly, heating her palms with the friction. For a moment, her warm touch soothed Andie's aching lower leg. Then her fingers sank into the tight knot in Andie's calf muscle, eliciting a hiss of pain.
By Deanna Cassidyabout 7 hours ago in Fiction
Helena's Journey
Smoke curling through the pale orange sky over the distant hill indicated to Helena that morning was on the horizon. The fires provided warmth for the remnants of that small village whose people hunted for rats or squirrels, cooking them over crude stone pits and metal grates. Sand stretched in either direction, making supplies difficult to obtain. In the distance, Helena had become a scavenger as well, digging through the heaps of destruction that occurred when one world state clashed with the other years ago. The war yielded no winners, only broken people, pawns struggling to survive.
By Barb Dukemanabout 24 hours ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle
When Governor Andrew Cuomo ordered all non-essential businesses in New York State to shut down, Chinatown changed almost overnight.
By Petera day ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle
By late March of the Year of the Rat, time itself seemed to slow under the weight of the virus. Days stretched endlessly, as if the calendar had lost its urgency. Each morning looked almost identical to the one before it. The same gray sky over Manhattan. The same cautious silence on the streets below our apartment window.
By Petera day ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicle
In late March, after New York Governor Andrew Cuomo issued the stay-at-home order, all workers in non-essential industries were required to remain at home. The goal was clear: protect lives, slow the rising curve of infections, and relieve the growing panic that had gripped New Yorkers.
By Peter2 days ago in Fiction
City of plague:A new Yorker’s pandemic chronicl
On March 1, the first confirmed case of COVID-19 in New York City was announced. The patient was a middle-aged lawyer working in a Midtown Manhattan law firm. His condition was already severe when he was diagnosed, and he was immediately hospitalized and placed in isolation.
By Peter2 days ago in Fiction
Mnemosyne's Anemones
Mom was furious. She stomped into the hall, carrying a rather expensive-looking book. Which she promptly slammed onto a convenient table, sending sparkling dust into the bright corners. “Melpomene!”
By Meredith Harmon2 days ago in Fiction
An In-Depth Story Inspired by Gone Girl
An In-Depth Story Inspired by Gone Girl On the morning of their fifth wedding anniversary, Nick Dunne woke to the uneasy stillness of a house that felt like it was holding its breath.
By Ibrahim Shah 3 days ago in Fiction
Echoes of Resistance
The streets of Bristol were alive that day, though not with the usual hum of buses and chatter, but with the heavy pulse of voices that demanded to be heard. I had not intended to join the protest—I came to observe, to write, to bear witness—but once I stepped into the swell of people, the energy was impossible to ignore. The banners waved above heads, each one a story, a demand, a prayer. The scent of rain-soaked asphalt mixed with the faint tang of chalk from hastily scrawled messages, leaving the air electric.
By imtiazalam3 days ago in Fiction