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black short stories

  • Birthday Boy
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    Birthday Boy

    Kuokoa B. Mchango was certain that it was the last night he would be alive, for you see, tomorrow was his 28th birthday. As he lay in his fold-out cot and stared at the low ceiling, he realized with a twinge of sadness that this fact didn’t bother him nearly as much as it used…

    By

    Yesha Callahan

    Published

  • ,

    Roses

    In the summer of 1998, shortly after my girlfriend Valerie moved out of our Brooklyn apartment, using the excuse that I was too depressing to live with, Mom called me from her Harlem brownstone, sniffling into the phone. “He’s gone, David,” she said, her voice cracking. “I knew as soon as they started cutting off…

    By

    Yesha Callahan

    Published

  • Fishbone
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    Fishbone

    I’m not going to kill myself. I yelled it out early this morning when my mother woke me up. “I AM NOT GOING TO FUCKING KILL MYSELF!” is exactly how I said it when she came busting into my room demanding that I get my clothes on to go to meet Jesus. Two days ago…

    By

    Stephen A. Crockett Jr.

    Published