a taste of ‘Gorge’

33 writers feature in 54 stories in gorge … so eat them up!

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Gorge is a novel in stories, each of the 54 stories a chapter from the whole novel, written by 33 different authors


I watched him eat his dinner, in silence; I left mine, I lose my appetite when he’s angry, and asked for a box to take it with us.

The MagicianMatthew Brennan


“You mean innocence. Not ignorance. Why are you so cynical? Did you order drinks?”

Tomorrow’s BlogJen Knox


One squeeze means yes; two squeezes means no; no squeeze at all means maybe.

Little Nibble BitsSamuel E. Cole


Kimberley’s face tightened and her eyes glassed over. She took a deep breath and approached Katrin, who had never seen a faker smile in her life. “Would you like some iced tea?”

AccentsClaudia Bierschenk


Let’s see. Two bracelets for each arm, three rings for each hand, and a diamond tiara will be the necessary items.

SpecialJoyce Juzwik


“The last state execution in Maine was in 1887,” Carol Lee states, hoping to end the chat and get rid of Dana.

PrestidigitationSally Reno


“That goddamn parrot shit in my shoe. Again. Now I have to change my socks.”

PhotosRobert Vaughan


My rack is its own money-making machine and it’s one hundred percent natural.

The ArrivalJennifer Donnell


She trails behind Teddy, chattering, and yet still conscious of the stares her slender body and expensive clothes command.

Cake vs. PieGay Degani


It is Friday morning so she will be making four pies for Café Gano, the pretentious little bistro on the waterfront.

On Blueberry HillSally Reno


Ray tried not to make it a habit, but drinking after work at the Café Gano was a respite from the dullness of working alone.

Death in the AfternoonMichael Webb


He had decided against licking the plate in deference to his wife’s sense of decorum, but it had been a close thing.

SauceStephen V. Ramey


And he seemed to be, well, staring at me. Or was he? Yeah, he was.

Commercial BreakRobert Vaughan


“You know I hate to talk to her on the phone. She always sounds so busy with those pies of hers.”

CuttingGay Degani


Flirting with the customers, Versy reckoned. Pushing those high-priced highballs. Not even six and already half the town crocked.

LuckyLinda Simoni-Wastila


An Irish-Mexican trucker from La-La Land. Please. I’m sure he knew how to order a cappuccino just right so that he didn’t end up with too much foam on top.

FreedomGessy Alvarez


But that doesn’t explain what he was doing there at Happy Hour does it? she calculates …

The FogSally Reno


She remembers skipping along the bank making motorboat sounds. She still sputtered and hummed like an engine when she was old enough to take out the rowboat alone.

The WatcherSusan Gibb


“What about the crabs?” “Still twitchin’ as I pulled into the parking lot.”

For StartersGill Hoffs


How does he know my name? I gaze into his brown eyes, but they don’t look familiar.

The DeliveryJennifer Donnell


“I own it, Robert!” Mya yelled across the parking lot. She wrenched on the door handle and pulled the car door open. “I – OWN – IT! So I can do what I goddamn like.”

SayonaraMatt Potter


She may live in this provincial town, but she sure wasn’t going to look or act like it.

MatchMeg Tuite


“And she’s drinking like the proverbial guppy … a double vermouth and a full bottle of wine that she’s downing steadily. If I’m lucky, she’ll be too sozzled for anything after the meal.”

Final CampaignMaude Larke


But of course, no one was asking about the duck. It was all about Denise’s meal. All about the damn Lobsters.

StandardsJoanna Delooze


When it is feeding time and she goes to the refrigerator, I play it double cool like a serial predator on the make.

WhiskersTimmy Reed


It was an act, a cute little-boy-peep-moue meant to disarm her, an invitation innocent as it was insincere: join me in my masquerade. She refused to be drawn in.

Who’s WhoEdison Blake


“I don’t have baths now,” Aileen corrects. “Only showers. I haven’t had a bath in thirty years.”

Lamington DriveMatt Potter


I didn’t even slap him in the face for being cliché.

The ShriekJennifer Donnell


He carried a manilla folder filled with notes, past meetings, plans for expansion that never seemed to materialize.

BeachedRobert Vaughan


“I love your hair,” she says, “Orange is one of my favorite colors.”

The VisitMark Rosenblum


“Welcome to Maine.” He opens his arms wide, and grins. “My name is Lance. You’ve been hired to help me secure sponsors for the Tour de Maine.”

Tour de MaineThomas Sullivan


“Can’t even tell them apart,” he’d said, as if his own ignorance was evidence of some universal truth.

She and HimCS DeWildt


“You need to get used to being asked about them, Robert – your conquests will soon be limited to the gray gays of yesterday. Pissy old men with stinky pissed-on balls.”

Staff IssuesGill Hoffs


He eased the engine into neutral, drifted up on the next buoy, leaned over the gunwale, and snagged the float.

SeafoodTodd McKie


She flushed the toilet feeling ten pounds lighter.

Purge Meg Tuite


It was not like he used the shit himself. He was no cokehead.

Bad Little FallsSally Reno


I try not to watch her chest strain against her zipper as the tip lights up again.

We’re Made of MeatDavid James Keaton


“Nope, and she put a pube in my clams,” Bruiser said, pressing his boot hard on the gas pedal.

Rubber Nathaniel Tower


I smell him before I hear him, fresh sweat and herbs from the kitchen laced with whatever deodorant it is that makes him smell so good.

In the SoupGill Hoffs


“Hey,” I said as Ellie pulled her pajamas on, her eyes never leaving the article on the bed, “I’m gonna go for a walk, check my email.”

Vanishing ActMatthew Brennan


Craig didn’t hear anything—not the tired engine’s gasping, not the screech of the garage door’s ancient mechanism, not the crunch of gravel on the farm road.

DessertGuilie Castillo Oriard


“They punished these other poor bastards because they had no way to punish the man who’d stuck them with that order.”

Last Last Meal David James Keaton


A woman with short frosted hair and wide-set eyes is standing too close to their table, hand fidgeting at the blotchy skin on her chest. She’s staring, not at them, but at Harold’s plate.

Delishus FishusVanessa Weibler Paris


“Bitch,” he called out and slammed the door, making the trailer shake.

Alone Again, with Eleven BirdsAndrew Stancek


“What the hell do I pay that bitch for?” Mya thought as she watched Aileen’s big jaw preaching her usual bullshit, holding this poor couple hostage.

Why the Hell Do They Call It Happy Hour?Meg Tuite


“Italian cum … tastes like bad mozzarella.”

Key MeetingMatt Potter


“We’re off to a bad start already,” Robert said as he swished in. “She wanted a glass of red Martini, and we only have white.”

Battle StationsMaude Larke


“Unless that sweet corn just got its period, Kimberley’s bled all over the fucking side order that’s due out in four minutes!”

Over. Done.Gill Hoffs


We also offer a large variety of aperitifs before dinner and a delicious array of coffees and liquors to top off your meal, and are always happy to accommodate special requests.

MenuSusan Gibb


Then I passed out cold in front of the entire kitchen staff when I made the mistake of scraping a plate of undercooked chicken into the trash.

Half Staff at the Grease BoxDavid James Keaton


On the patio, I do a quick spew into the band of trees below. My voice sounds like a ratchet as I vomit.

A Hairy SituationLen Kuntz


It irritated him that she had to process sequentially, no skipping between appetizer and dessert, no inspired meals created from random finger-points.

Maine ThingStephen V. Ramey

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