STORY

The World Map

"Here's where my dad was born," I said, pointing to Ardebil

by siamak vossoughi
19-Jun-2010
It looked beautiful. I'd heard something about cliffs or rocks over there, and I pictured a canary flying over them, looking down. A lot of places looked beautiful on a map. They looked like mine too. I had been born in Iran and then gone to England and then come to America, and Jeddi's family had come from India to America, so those were special places on a map for us, but there was something about all the places that made them seem like ours, like they were all waiting for us to come there, and they would be ours even if we didn't>>>

FATHER

Horse

We rarely hugged, but on that day, we did

by Azarin Sadegh
17-Jun-2010 (10 comments)
My father and I took a photograph a long time ago, but someone has cut him off the picture. What remains is the sight of a frightened girl – me -- sitting on a frightened horse. And the rest is only a fantasy. But if I close my eyes, I might recall the missing pieces and I might create that moment again as a whole. We’re surrounded by green waves of the Caspian Sea. The level of the water reaches the animal’s thighs and my feet. An arm (my father’s) holds the harness tight and I’m leaned forward, smiling>>>

STORY

Sherlock Holmes Daughter (8)

The only opponent to have unequivocally outwitted Sherlock Holmes

by Ari Siletz
11-Jun-2010 (4 comments)
Paul said Christie’s condition hadn’t changed. She was still under observation in a windowless hospital room devoid of sharp objects, lacking a television set or even electrical outlets. I said I wanted to go see her, but Paul insisted she didn’t want any visitors. Maybe she didn’t mean me and Paul was just mad about my going over to Katie’s. Hiding my feelings was hard work, but it had to be done. If Paul sensed that I had fallen in love with Katie, her appraisal value would suddenly double and the love triangle stalemate would be broken. There was only so much Christie’s illness could do to forestall his leaving her for Katie>>>

STORY

The Trip Home

Somewhere around France, where the Iranian was lost

by siamak vossoughi
09-Jun-2010
The two friends came home to what had become their home, a rooming-house in Utrecht, Holland, late at night and slept and awoke full of a feeling that something was gone and it was: They had come home from a trip through Europe and they were now face-to-face with the question of whether it had been the places they'd gone to or if it had been movement itself, and if it had been movement itself, what were they going to do about that? They knew one thing: They were great friends, for all that was spoken and unspoken on their trip>>>

FLOTILLA

فلوتیلا

فلوتیلا دارد قهوه و نسکافه داغ و مجانی توزیع میکند. شما تشریف نمی آورید؟

by cyrous moradi
07-Jun-2010
ساعت درست سه و ده دقیقه صبح روز دوشنبه سی و یکم ماه می بود که به ژنرال Archibald Snicklefritz Von Badguy معروف به Villano دیکتاتور مادام العمر هفتاد و سه ساله جمهوری Tierras Infernal که در دریای کارائیب و 245 کیلومتری میامی واقع است و تازه به خواب رفته بود اطلاع دادند که ناوگانی که می خواست محاصره زندان مخوف و بدنام la Sabaneta را در سواحل میامی بشکند دچار مشکل شده است>>>

STORY

پاچه خواران

داشتن دستهائی با انگشتان بلند و ناخن های سوهانی ظریف و نرم، امتیازی در این رشته محسوب می شود

by cyrous moradi
30-May-2010 (7 comments)
در زمان سلطنت Atahualpa (حدود پانصد سال قبل)، ایندولند به یمن رعایت اصول دقیق پاچه خواری به مراتب بالائی از پیشرفت در این زمینه رسید. این پادشاه بزرگ ضمن انجام دهها اصلاح ساختاری در ارکان حکومت، فرمانی صادر و کمیته ای را مامور استاندارد کردن اصول پاچه خواری کرد و این گروه بعد از بیست سال مطالعه سرانجام در اوایل دوره رنسانس که اروپائی ها از خواب غفلت صده های تاریک قرون وسطی بیدار می شدند، پاچه خواری را استاندارد کرده و یاسای ده فرمان بزرگ پاچه خواری ممهور به مهر سلطنتی برای رعایت حال و رفاه رعایای کشور ایندولند انتشار یافت>>>

STORY

Sherlock Holmes’ Daughter (7)

I just shut up and held her as though to soak up everything about her

by Ari Siletz
24-May-2010 (4 comments)
It was a shock hearing Katie so nonchalantly admit that her mother was a prostitute. Why did she think I had to know this so early in our relationship? Couldn’t she break it to me in small euphemisms over time? Now I had to try to deal with it. For a moment I felt the same distress at her frankness that Paul’s inappropriate confessions always gave me. “I suppose I’m the original maadar jendeh, wouldn’t you say?” she goaded, mocking me for my indecisiveness as to how to react. The confusion was honest enough, but if Paul were in my place he would have blurted out “Jesus Christ, you’re fucking kidding me!” >>>

STORY

The Woman Who Had Been Paying Attention

"Oranges," he said when he saw her. "Would you like one?"

by siamak vossoughi
14-May-2010 (2 comments)
There was a woman in town who was not considered one of the most beautiful on a day-to-day basis, but once in a while one of the men would see her on his way home and be struck dumb at how beautiful she was, and what the men had in common was that they saw her on the day they'd made something magnificent at their place of work. The baker noticed her on his way home from making what he believed to be a perfect cake. The mason noticed her on the day he'd made the sturdiest wall he'd ever made>>>

STORY

آتشونی

شعله های آتش روی صورت مجسمه ها می رقصیدند

by cyrous moradi
14-May-2010
یکی از همراهان که همیشه مطالب روزنامه را تعقیب می کرد، خلاصه اخبار کوچ ما مجسمه ها را به کویر برایمان خواند که از خنده روده بر شدیم. همه روزنامه ها به اتفاق این گونه نتیجه گیری کرده بودند که همه ما توسط باند سرقت خیلی ماهری دزدیده شده ایم.همراهمان که زمان حیاتش شاعر معروفی بود، شعر طنزی خواند که نشان میداد ایشان برای آمدن به کویر رفته تا از شهردار مرخصی بگیرد. به گفته وی شهردار از دیدن یک مجسمه در دفتر کارش که تقاضای انتقال به کویر را داشته اصلاً تعجب نکرده بود. به گفته وی همه افراد دور و بر شهردار عین مجسمه بودند>>>

STORY

Sherlock Holmes’ Daughter (6)

I still remembered and felt every word I had brushed on her

by Ari Siletz
12-May-2010 (19 comments)
I slid my fingertips inside Katayoon’s blouse, thumbing her top button out of its buttonhole and gliding my hand inside her shirt. “Stop,” she whispered clutching my wrist tightly and slowly pulling it away from her breast. She held me from herself in this way for a long time, staring a meaning at me that I was not understanding. How disappointing to have said, “but you told me to undress you.” That much was apparent. She was saying there was a key to her body that I should find. But how could I be sure?>>>

STORY

Don't Forget About Egypt

The Turk was the one consistent part of all the discussions

by siamak vossoughi
06-May-2010
It was a joke his father and his father's brothers and their friends liked to use when they were entering a conversation. They were men who liked to talk and who liked to talk about politics and who looked so at home talking about politics that the boy would wonder where that home was. They looked like American men talking about sports, only there was more - more heights and depths of emotion, more putting their arms around each other, more slowness in the listening to another man's heart coming out. "Don't forget about Egypt," a newcomer would say>>>

STORY

Sherlock Holmes’ Daughter (5)

Katie had an agenda that would not be completed if she threw me out

by Ari Siletz
04-May-2010 (2 comments)
“By the way, I wanted to ask you, has Christie’s been coming on to you lately?” “For God’s sake, Paul.” I protested. I had deleted Christie’s email, offering to spend the night at my house when Paul was away. But where was that subconscious repression mechanism when I needed it most? How was I to look Paul innocently in the eyes and deny that I had almost said ‘yes’ to his wife? “She has, hasn’t she? You’re a worse liar than I am,” Paul accused>>>

LABOR DAY

روز کارگر

همه صابون های عالم نمی توانند پر های تو را سفید کنند

by cyrous moradi
30-Apr-2010 (5 comments)
یادم است وقتی دبیرستان می رفتیم، دبیری داشتیم که می گفتند افکار چپ دارد، هر از چند گاهی ساواک دستگیرش میکرد ولی دوباره سر وکله اش پیدا می شد. ریاضیات درس میداد. وقتی تازه از زندان آزاد می شد، همه اش مدح شاه را می گفت ولی کم کم که خاطرات زندان یادش میرفت، دوباره شروع میکرد آخر کلاس از اوضاع بد گفتن و انتقاد کردن. ما دیگر عادت کرده بودیم و یادم است که می گفتیم : دوباره واکسن یادآوری لازم دارد تا مجدداً تبدیل به آدمی شاه دوست گردد. بر خلاف اغلب چپ های دو آتشه ایرانی آن دوران، با استالین بد بود. >>>

STORY

Sherlock Holmes' Daughter (4)

Do I have one inside of me? The subconscious monster?

by Ari Siletz
30-Apr-2010 (6 comments)
I double checked my voice mail and found the school principal’s message. Finally, after days of trying to get a hold of someone at my daughter’s school to grumble about her verbal scores, someone had bothered to reply. I wondered if the school would have bothered to return my call at all if she hadn’t done whatever she was supposed to have done. “Test scores are the least of her problems right now,” the principal barked. She sounded furious. “I’d like to discuss the smaller problems first, “ I said. “About the test scores…” >>>

STORY

Sherlock Holmes’ Daughter (3)

“I’ve been having dreams about you"

by Ari Siletz
24-Apr-2010 (2 comments)
I wanted Christie to feel like I needed her, but there was no way I would use Paul’s immaculate truck to actually move furniture. A tiny scratch could total our friendship and I would never see his wife again. I rented a U-Haul trailer, occasionally driving the truck around the block so that when Paul inspected it he couldn’t tell Christie the odometer hadn’t budged. Operating Paul’s pristine machine that week I had become overly sensitized to fine craftsmanship. Every time I saw Katie at work, I marveled at her breathtaking sense of self-design>>>
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