Vegas Seven


  • Storytelling 2014

    Strangers in Strange Lands

    Five true tales of life out of context 

  • Storytelling 2014

    Closed City

    By Greg Blake Miller

    All punctual people are punctual in the same way; each impunctual person is late in a manner all his own. This is why people who are late are interesting, if infuriating. The things that can happen to make one late are endlessly entertaining, particularly if you are capable of being entertained by lies.

  • Storytelling 2014

    The Eternal Offseason

    By Cindi Reed

    Street basketball reigned at elementary school recess. If fate sent the ball into my hands, I would freeze in the confusion and exhilaration of everybody suddenly calling out to me.

  • Storytelling 2014

    The Beach, Stripped Bare

    By Geoff Carter

    I do not know the family in the YouTube video. Their accents and conversational idioms suggest that they’re American, almost inappropriately so considering what’s going on in the clip.

  • Storytelling 2014

    Operation Chocolate Chip

    By Sean DeFrank

    When I was in Army basic training at Fort Benning, Georgia, in the summer of 1988, the most anticipated part of every day was mail call, the one link back to a life before drill sergeants orchestrated your every move.

  • Storytelling 2014

    Off The Island

    By Lissa Townsend Rodgers

    We never should have come here. I am lying on a beach in the Mediterranean. I am lying on black velvet sand, gazing up at a cloudless, azure-blue sky. The water is so clear that no matter how far I swim out, I can still see the bottom—pink shells, blue bits of tiles, scraps of driftwood shaped like tiny angel’s wings.

  • Reboot

    By Joe Donnelly

    You are a young man attending journalism school at Berkeley, and you develop a serious crush on L___, who is skinny and has white teeth, honey hair and a winsome smile that seems born of the California you’ve been dreaming about after several long winters in the Rocky Mountains.

  • Revolution Square

    By Greg Blake Miller

    I was being watched. I could feel it in the way a foreigner feels things in a foreign land, in a dreamlike way, with more unconsciousness than consciousness, a knowing much more akin to not knowing. Not knowing is the most beautiful and terrifying thing about being far from home. In precisely the circumstance where your instincts—uninformed, full of rank misinterpretations of simple social signals—are most likely to be wrong, you must trust them most. They are all you’ve got, and at the moment what I had was the sense of being watched.

  • Cold Comfort

    By Maile Chapman

    In Germany, renters have certain responsibilities. When I lived in Hamburg a decade ago, for instance, renters typically had to clean the landing, hall or stairway nearest their door in any shared building—a duty my boyfriend and I were reminded of by pointed looks from neighbors during snow or rain. It wasn’t a fair system; we lived on the ground floor in a heavily trafficked area right by the front entrance, so we were expected to mop much more often than tenants on any of the six floors above.

  • Just Don’t Look Right

    By H. Lee Barnes

    Much of the fun came after the shift, meeting in the dirt lot next to the downtown Las Vegas First National Bank across from the courthouse. One or more of us would make a beer run to the Shopping Bag grocery store, which is long since gone. We’d pop the lids, take a sip or two and tell stories. I was young and just in the process of building up my own catalog of war stories, so mostly I listened and laughed.