The Washington Pastime will be closed to new submissions for the coming months. This is in an effort to allow our staff to sort through the enormous amount of submissions in que. We will do our best to review all…
Writers have rights.
Blog Archives
The Irishman, by Christian Thompson
I. The sun was sitting low and the fat little guard up the front hid under a hat as the chain-gang worked toward him. Dark sweat patches spread out from his pits and every now and then he fanned his…
Getting Great, by Mike Vidafar
Now that May, which was the month of Gatsby, has died down, I feel like it’s time for a different sort of discussion. May was positively filled with articles discussing Gatsby, and rightly so. The discussions were dis-jointed: some focused…
Tagged with: 2013, america, american novel, bradbury, buzzfeed, columbia university press, dicaprio, farenehit 451, fitzgerald, gatsby, great american novel, great gatsby, huck finn, huffington post, jazz age, luhrmann, murakami, non-fiction, op-ed, the atlantic, twain
Posted in 2013, Non-Fiction, Op-Ed
Posted in 2013, Non-Fiction, Op-Ed
Swaddling, by Nicole Rogers
The hat was lucky, of that I was sure. For starters, it had been rediscovered. Two days after my grandmother’s funeral, right there in the attic, tucked away in some forgotten box. All those years wasted slumbering away, yet when…
The Incident with the Brick, by Catherine Crown
I am an only child. My mother almost died having me. I’m glad she didn’t, though, because I have no idea how it would be at home with nothing besides the one word conversations between me and my dad. “Morning,”…
Rest Here, by J.S. Watts
The ancient church was large and gloomy, abnormally so in both cases. Working here was going to require additional lighting. The rich stained-glass light from the few high level windows only added to the density of the air squatting thickly…
The Ride, by Dave Cushing
“Barry, you got a pick up at 396 Madison. Apartment 3.” “Got it. Be there in five.” I dropped the mic on the front seat of my cab and pulled out of the mall parking lot. A call at 2:00…
Mustafa’s Plight, by Hollis Whitlock
Mustafa and Sangoma walked to a dirt road that led to the airport. Mustafa kneeled and ran his hand along the cracked soil of the African safari. Dust dissipated through his dark fingers, as he peered above the reddening horizon…
Perspective, by Jack Noble
Cameron and I stand on the roof of my building and admire the city lights from thirty stories high. I take a gulp from my can, and breathe a contented sigh. Cameron looks at me. “What are you smiling at?”…
The Cobbler, by Brian Smith
On the days just before and right after the funerals, friends and church people had brought food over, and we all just ate when the mood struck us, whenever that might be, and no one thought about how many plates…
