Superhero fiction is a genre mainly originating in and most common to American comic books, though it has expanded into other media through adaptations and original. Research from JAMA — Suppression of Substance Abuse Claims in Medicaid Data and Rates of Diagnoses for Non–Substance Abuse Conditions. Woodrough, blakely, floyd, bass, holland, piatt, ogle, vollmer, richardson, de valcourt, holland, bryant, calmes, piatt, hart, odum, bass, basse, ruffner, rudd. In researching the history of Brookline soldiers in the First World War, old editions of the Pittsburgh Press revealed the following special feature on the. Henry Prize Stories. A . 2 Third Prize 1. Dark Felicia Ackerman . Abrahams . 1, 1. 98. Abrahams . 2. 3 & 2. Abrahams . 4 1. 98. Abrahams Linda Arking . On the Occasion of the Unveiling of the Stock Exchange War Memorial by The Earl of Balfour, K.G., O.M. Zora Neale Hurston's 'Sweat' with anchors for the primary symbols and images Barbara L. Williams It was eleven o'clock of a Spring night in Florida. Official history of the 5th Light Horse Regiment, Australian Imperial Force, 1914 - 1919. A website to help remember the names of men serving during WW1 and WW2 from Clayton le woods and Whittle le Woods. Spring 1. 99. 0 1. Abrahams Stephen Morehouse Avery . First Prize. 19. 99 Dark Terry Bain . Dark Yolanda Barnes . Dark Donald Barthelme . Fall 1. 98. 7 1. 98. Abrahams . 1 1. 99. Dark John Batki . No. 1. 20. 01. Dark. Stephen Vincent Ben. Abrahams John Berry . February 1. 97. 5 1. Abrahams Jeannette Bertles . Dark Marie- Helene Bertino. Abrahams John Biguenet . July 1. 98. 9 1. 99. Abrahamson Amy Bloom . Abrahams Paul Bowles . Spring 1. 98. 9 1. Abrahamson . 3 1. Dark Roark Bradford . Abrahams Kevin Brockmeier . Abrahams T. K. 3 1. Dark James Buechler . Spring 1. 97. 5 1. Abrahams Eugene L. Dark (top). James Branch Cabell . First Prize 1. 98. Abrahams . 2. Second Prize. Dark. Elizabeth Cobb Chapman . Ketting and Clark Gable. Le Guin 2. 00. 7 Furman Olivia Clare. Second Prize 1. 99. Abrahams Eldridge Cleaver . Dark Charles Cooke . Creagan and Courtney Ryley Cooper . Dark Daniel Curley . Dark Christopher Davis . Anthony Messenger, March 1. Abrahams Chitra Banerjee Dikaruni. Dark Frederick G. Third Prize 1. 98. Abrahams . 3, 1. 99. Abrahams H. E. F. Dark Robert Dunn . Abrahams Deborah Eisenberg . Abrahams Elizabeth Irons Folsom . Dark Esther Forbes . Dark. Joseph O'Kane Foster . Spring 1. 98. 1 1. Abrahamson James B. Dark Isa Urquhart Glenn . Abrahamson Nadine Gordimer. First Prize 1. 99. Dark . 2 1. 97. 2 Abrahams Christine Noble Govan . Stegner Edwin Granberry . Dark. John Graves . Fall 1. 98. 9 1. 99. Abrahamson Mary Frances Greene . Abrahams Karl Taro Greenfeld. Summer 1. 97. 4 1. Abrahams Sarah Grinnell . Abrahams Frances Noyes Hart . Smith (or Two Minutes to Live). Second Prize 1. 97. Abrahams . 1 Winter 1. Third Prize 1. 97. Abrahams Ellen Herman . Dark Murray Heyert . Spring/Summer 1. 97. Abrahams . 3 & 4 Second Prize 1. Dark T. 4, Fall 1. Abrahamson Lewis Home . Dark Lucy Honig . Abrahams . 5. 0 1. Dark Maureen Howard . Abrahams John Irving . Abrahams Inez Haynes Irwin . Abrahams Clare Jaynes . New Series, Summer 1. Abrahamson Ruth Prawer Jhabvala . Dark Graham Joyce. Byatt. Juror Favorite: Tim O'Brien. Furman. Ward Just . Abrahams Susan Kenney . Abrahams Elliot Krieger . Dark Clara Laidlaw . Abrahams James Lasdun. Summer 1. 99. 0 1. Abrahams Anne Leaton . Dark Andrea Lee . Dark. Margaret Leech . Second Prize. 20. Dark O. F. 7. 4, Winter 1. First Prize 1. 99. Abrahamson Lynda Lloyd . XII 1. 96. 5 Poirier and Abrahams Marie Luhrs . Schwellenbach' s Receptions. Dark Ian Mac. Millan . Dark Caitlin Macy. Abrahams Julian Mazor . New Series, Summer 1. Abrahamson . 2. 2, 1. Abrahams Daniel Meltzer . Dark Lorrie Moore . Third Prize 1. 99. Abrahams . 2 1. 99. Dark Edita Morris . Dark. Kent Nelson . Spring 1. 99. 2 1. Abrahams . 2 1. 99. Dark Marian Novick . Spring 1. 98. 9 1. Abrahamson . 2. 20. Dark. Maurice Ogden . First Prize 1. 96. Poirier Elizabeth Oness . Abrahams Margaret Osborne . Abrahamson Harry Mark Petrakis . Poirier and Abrahams Catherine Petroski . Abrahams Brenda Peynado. Abrahamson Jayne Anne Phillips . Abrahams Thomas Hal Phillips . Dark Annie Proulx . Second Prize 1. 96. Poirier Jamie Quatro. Dark Nancy Reisman. Abrahams John H. 4 1. Abrahams Polly Rosenwaike. Abrahams Lillian Ross . Dark Miriam Rugel . Winter 1. 97. 1 1. Abrahams . 1 1. 99. Dark Heidi Jon Schmidt. Dark Gladys Schmitt . Dark Lynne Sharon Schwartz . Dark Steven Schwartz . Abrahams Salvatore Scibona . Third Prize 1. 96. Poirier Asako Serizawa . Story, Summer 1. 99. Dark Sylvia Shirley . Darcy Meets the. Blue- Eyed Stranger at the Beach. Spring 1. 99. 0 1. Abrahams Max Steele . Abrahams Wilbur Daniel Steele . Spring 1. 99. 0 1. Abrahams Sidney Sulkin . First Prize. 20. 01. Dark. Maxine Swann . Dark Glendon Swarthout . Abrahams Barry Targan . Abrahams Ellen Dupois Taylor . Abrahams Dorothy Thomas . Abrahamson Rose Tremain. Dark Alice Walker . Abrahams . 3. 72. Dark. Robert Wallace . Dark. Brad Watson . Dark Eudora Welty . Dark Albert Richard Wetjen . Abrahamson . 2 1. Abrahams Allen Wheelis . Abrahams Thomas Whitbread . First Prize 2. 00. Dark . 3 & 4 1. Dark Patricia Zelver . Winesburg, Ohio. Sherwood Anderson (1. Elmer was putting new shoelaces in his shoes. They did not go in readily and he had to take the shoes off. With the shoes in his hand he sat looking at a large hole in the heel of one of his stockings. Then looking quickly up he saw George Willard, the only newspaper reporter in Winesburg, standing at the back door of the Eagle printshop and staring absentmindedly about. In Cowley & Son’s store a Jewish traveling salesman stood by the counter talking to his father. He imagined the reporter could hear what was being said and the thought made him furious. With one of the shoes still held in his hand he stood in a corner of the shed and stamped with a stockinged foot upon the board floor. The front was on Maumee Street and beyond it was Voight’s wagon shop and a shed for the sheltering of farmers’ horses. Beside the store an alleyway ran behind the main street stores and all day drays and delivery wagons, intent on bringing in and taking out goods, passed up and down. The store itself was indescribable. Will Henderson once said of it that it sold everything and nothing. In the window facing Maumee Street stood a chunk of coal as large as an apple barrel, to indicate that orders for coal were taken, and beside the black mass of the coal stood three combs of honey grown brown and dirty in their wooden frames. It was for sale as were also the coat hangers, patent suspender buttons, cans of roof paint, bottles of rheumatism cure, and a substitute for coffee that companioned the honey in its patient willingness to serve the public. On his scrawny neck was a large wen partially covered by a grey beard. He wore a long Prince Albert coat. The coat had been purchased to serve as a wedding garment. Before he became a merchant Ebenezer was a farmer and after his marriage he wore the Prince Albert coat to church on Sundays and on Saturday afternoons when he came into town to trade. When he sold the farm to become a merchant he wore the coat constantly. It had become brown with age and was covered with grease spots, but in it Ebenezer always felt dressed up and ready for the day in town. His family, consisting of a daughter named Mabel and the son, lived with him in rooms above the store and it did not cost them much to live. His troubles were not financial. His unhappiness as a merchant lay in the fact that when a traveling man with wares to be sold came in at the front door he was afraid. Behind the counter he stood shaking his head. He was afraid, first that he would stubbornly refuse to buy and thus lose the opportunity to sell again; second that he would not be stubborn enough and would in a moment of weakness buy what could not be sold. The traveling man talked and Ebenezer listened, his whole figure expressing uncertainty. With one hand he quickly unfastened a collar from his shirt and then fastened it on again. He assumed a flattering wheedling tone. I am offering you the exclusive agency for this town. Take twenty dozen of these fasteners and I’ll not visit any other store. I’ll leave the field to you.” The traveling man leaned over the counter and tapped with his finger on Ebenezer’s breast. Taking a book from his pocket he began writing out the order. Still holding the shoe in his hand Elmer Cowley went through the store, past the two absorbed men, to a glass showcase near the front door. He took a cheap revolver from the case and began to wave it about. Maybe I just took this gun out of the case to look at it. But you better get out. Yes sir, I’ll say that. You better grab up your things and get out.” The young storekeeper’s voice rose to a scream and going behind the counter he began to advance upon the two men. We ain’t going to keep on being queer and have folks staring and listening. You get out of here!” The traveling man left. Raking the samples of collar fasteners off the counter into a black leather bag, he ran. He was a small man and very bow- legged and he ran awkwardly. The black bag caught against the door and he stumbled and fell. Now that the immediate object of his wrath had fled, the younger man was embarrassed. I think we’ve been queer long enough,” he declared, going to the showcase and replacing the revolver. Sitting on a barrel he pulled on and fastened the shoe he had been holding in his hand. He was waiting for some word of understanding from his father but when Ebenezer spoke his words only served to reawaken the wrath in the son and the young man ran out of the store without replying. Scratching his grey beard with his long dirty fingers, the merchant looked at his son with the same wavering uncertain stare with which he had confronted the traveling man. He did not know where he was going or what he was going to do. In the shelter of a deep cut where the road, after turning sharply to the right, dipped under the tracks he stopped and the passion that had been the cause of his outburst in the store began to again find expression. I’ll show that George Willard. I’ll show him!” The distraught young man stood in the middle of the road and glared back at the town. He did not know the reporter George Willard and had no special feeling concerning the tall boy who ran about town gathering the town news. The reporter had merely come, by his presence in the office and in the printshop of the Winesburg Eagle, to stand for something in the young merchant’s mind. He thought the boy who passed and re- passed Cowley & Son’s store and who stopped to talk to people in the street must be thinking of him and perhaps laughing at him. George Willard, he felt, belonged to the town, typified the town, represented in his person the spirit of the town. Elmer Cowley could not have believed that George Willard had also his days of unhappiness, that vague hungers and secret unnamable desires visited also his mind. Did he not represent public opinion and had not the public opinion of Winesburg condemned the Cowleys to queerness? Did he not walk whistling and laughing through Main Street? Might not one by striking his person strike also the greater enemy—the thing that smiled and went its own way—the judgment of Winesburg? His hair, his eyebrows, and the downy beard that had begun to grow upon his chin, were pale almost to whiteness. His teeth protruded from between his lips and his eyes were blue with the colorless blueness of the marbles called “aggies” that the boys of Winesburg carried in their pockets. Elmer had lived in Winesburg for a year and had made no friends. He was, he felt, one condemned to go through life without friends and he hated the thought. The day was cold with a raw wind, but presently the sun began to shine and the road became soft and muddy. The tops of the ridges of frozen mud that formed the road began to melt and the mud clung to Elmer’s shoes. When he had gone several miles he turned off the road, crossed a field and entered a wood. In the wood he gathered sticks to build a fire, by which he sat trying to warm himself, miserable in body and in mind. A smile came to his lips and he began making motions with his long arms to a man who was husking corn in one of the fields. The man on the farm was a half- witted old fellow named Mook. He had once been employed by Ebenezer Cowley and had stayed on the farm when it was sold. The old man lived in one of the unpainted sheds back of the farmhouse and puttered about all day in the fields. With childlike faith he believed in the intelligence of the animals that lived in the sheds with him, and when he was lonely held long conversations with the cows, the pigs, and even with the chickens that ran about the barnyard. He it was who had put the expression regarding being “laundered” into the mouth of his former employer. When excited or surprised by anything he smiled vaguely and muttered: “I’ll be washed and ironed. Well, well, I’ll be washed and ironed and starched.” When the half- witted old man left his husking of corn and came into the wood to meet Elmer Cowley, he was neither surprised nor especially interested in the sudden appearance of the young man. His feet also were cold and he sat on the log by the fire, grateful for the warmth and apparently indifferent to what Elmer had to say. Look how it has always been with me. Father is queer and mother was queer, too. Even the clothes mother used to wear were not like other people’s clothes, and look at that coat in which father goes about there in town, thinking he’s dressed up, too. Why don’t he get a new one? It wouldn’t cost much. Father doesn’t know and when mother was alive she didn’t know either. She knows but she won’t say anything. I’m not going to be stared at any longer. Why look here, Mook, father doesn’t know that his store there in town is just a queer jumble, that he’ll never sell the stuff he buys. He knows nothing about it. Sometimes he’s a little worried that trade doesn’t come and then he goes and buys something else. In the evenings he sits by the fire upstairs and says trade will come after a while. He doesn’t know enough to be worried.” The excited young man became more excited. When we lived out here it was different. I worked and at night I went to bed and slept. I wasn’t always seeing people and thinking as I am now. In the evening, there in town, I go to the post office or to the depot to see the train come in, and no one says anything to me. Everyone stands around and laughs and they talk but they say nothing to me. Then I feel so queer that I can’t talk either. I can’t.” The fury of the young man became uncontrollable. I had to tell someone and you were the only one I could tell. I hunted out another queer one, you see. I ran away, that’s what I did. I couldn’t stand up to someone like that George Willard. I ought to tell him and I will.” Again his voice arose to a shout and his arms flew about. I don’t care what they think. I won’t stand it.” Elmer Cowley ran out of the woods leaving the half- wit sitting on the log before the fire.
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