Alphabetical stories

A Letter Late At Night

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That man sits in the next room and continues laughing about his own writing.

A Letter Opener

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Inside that envelope was a letter, I'm happy to report. It was from my foster child in Monte Carlo, a boy named Monty or Carlo, I can never remember which since he always signs his letters Sonny.

A Letter to Saint Francis de Sales – Patron Saint for Writers

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I've been struck with a bout of writer's block, struggling to get pen to page or finger to keyboard....So I make paper airplanes.

A Letter to the Girl I May or May Not Have Slept With Last Night

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Can I really be blamed? Look at the circumstantial evidence: you wore that skirt, which can hardly be called a skirt. More like a very wide plaid belt.

A Letter to the Global Warming

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I am mightily pissed. I was, like, waiting for you last night, at the Greenhouse cafe, and you stood me up. I should have listened to my mom who always advised me not to go on blind dates, but you are so popular that I just couldn't help myself. When I ca

A lie must not advertise itself.

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Dreaming a word I woke: Encomium? There was no one about and I looked. Maybe I was grateful for waking from sleep again or just from sleep. A fool's freedom. Both. All. Time now looked like a door. But behaved like a vacuum. Still the consequences were the …

A lie that will not lay down

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I knew the course and had as long as I remembered the name on this post, but I couldn't clue the knot, the part of me I was ‘minded of on reflection. Yes there was always somewhere over there but I knew only the ground under my feet and then that it…

A Life

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Born, he stood up. He wore nothing as often as possible

A Life Lived In Outline

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He began life as we all do, an almost indeterminate blob. Ultrasound sonar plotting his outline on screen. The echo chambers of his beating heart dispelling the ectoplasmic impression of mere ghostly existence. His rudimentary …

A Life of My Own

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You don't make money worrying about other people's feelings. I learned that from my father at an early age. He managed rental properties, which I, his daughter, now own. He wanted a son, so I became one.

A Life of My Own - 3

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My father seems anxious about my gender orientation. I grew up looking like a boy, acting like a boy. He bought dresses and girly stuff for me but he avoided making an issue of it until recently.

A Life of My Own - 4

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"Middle class workers and working class poor and the unemployed will soon be forming a revolutionary movement to break this stranglehold of corrupt elites."

A Life of My Own - 5

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angels give them names of important people, people under the control of evil demons whose influence must be negated at all cost if humanity is to survive into the future and achieve its ultimate potential.

A Life of My Own - 6

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. . . my mind stops idling, kicks back into gear . . .

A Life of My Own - 7

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The park is filled with tents, tarps, and supporting structures, along with hundreds of diverse individuals seeking a common focus, wanting to make a difference, expressing an abundance of opinion, verbally and with signs.

A Life of My Own - 8

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I'm not sure if he's right or not but he has a gorgeous smile, he's charmingly self confident, and he's very persuasive.

A Life of My Own- 2

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He wanted me to learn the business, to become the son he always wanted but never had. I eagerly complied.

A Life Twice Told

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Walking to work, Lawrence Settler was struck by a bus as he crossed a one-way street.

A List of Ways I Have Failed to Express My Love for You

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The gaudy belt buckle I got you, which would have been well-received except that you hate gaudy belt buckles.The custom t-shirt I made for you using iron-on felt letters that generously enhanced the shape of your breasts in a way unfit for public display.The wedding…

A Litany of Bruises

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It’s no surprise when Mark comes home drunk, nor is it unexpected when he grabs me roughly by the arm and slaps my face because I didn’t have dinner waiting for him. The difference is that this night tears spring to my darkened eyes and slide down my swol

A Little Bird That Sings and Itches

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I guess it was a foregone conclusion that you would be gone at the end of the year. A foregone conclusion that you wouldn’t be coming back, and that after you began writing letters to Sharon saying what you would do to her when you did come back in th

A little bit of babysitting

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Roy Williams was his real name. It had been for the last 15 years. Since retiring from the Firm he’d lived innocuously in an apartment near the Old City walls of Dubrovnik doing the occasional quick job for them. You never entirely retired from the Firm.

A Little Bit of Everything

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It wasn’t just that bitch Cancer or the chemo or the loss of the right breast or the swollen postulating lymph nodes or the bedsores or the headaches or the embarrassment of the loose watery bowels.

A Little Bit Of Misogyny

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I was having a hugely difficult time to twist my face into anything but a grimace of disgust. I throw myself upon your mercy, dear reader. Tell me, please tell me, restore my faith in mankind . . . reassure me that no man actually enjoys this sort of thin

A Little Bit of Syrup

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"I made up my mind then, in the backseat, sucking on a cherry Popsicle, that I wanted to be like Ruby’s mother..."

A Little Evil Will Do You Good: Kansas City Jazz

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When the Borgias ruled Italy they had murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love and 500 years of democracy, and produced the cuckoo clock.

A Little Fable

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"Alas," said the mouse, "the whole world is growing smaller every day."

A Little Fishing

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Len and I sit on Harpo's porch, drink beer and gab. It's hot, even for July. Len and I joke and laugh, and Harpo stares off into the middle distance.

A Little Fishing

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Harpo sits and looks at something I can't see. I drink beer and ask him questions. I ask him how they found the cancer. Backache, he says. He went to see a doctor.

A Little Idea

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I have reasons to believe she’s been stealing.“ “Stealing what?” “Steaks.” “Steaks?”