Most discussed stories

Life Story

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A man lives with a woman he loves enough to live with, but not enough to marry and not enough for kids. He knows he could love others enough to marry, enough for kids, but he's not the kind of man to find those women when he's with this woman.Sometimes “love”…

Ten Minutes in the Life of Franziska Kafka

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bullet points about her soul

Leftovers

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That evening she sat on sofa and sniffled and twisted her handkerchief with her fingers. I decided it wasn't the right time to show her the picture....

Exhale

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It's as if the house knew I was relinquishing my hold on it.

Nearly Lost

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My body feels chilly but it's not from the outside temps. It seems to me it's the opposite of a fever.

Behind the Ear

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She grew tired of waiting for her husband to give her a flower so she picked one for herself.

far outside

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I'm staying in swinging all night Hell not just all night but every night I can possibly sink my teeth into

5 Narratives From The Field Museum (Naturally)

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5 Narratives From The Field Museum (Naturally) 1. The American wife asked her French husband why it took him 50 words to ask which pass they would need. He said, “Because it does,” and they argued more, each in their own words. 2. The child…

One-Way Ticket

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Margaret and I are going to Chicago. Everything we do this morning feels final, as if we are doing it for the last time, which is probably true.

Peach

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She's standing outside the 7-11, skirt up round her ass. Ripe. She could be a whore but she looks way too classy. Plus she has a huge soda - I'd guess diet - and a Twinkie.

Acedia

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Nothing new this numbing year 'til now-/ a forced recovery of voice through// recollection of the catalogue of regrets,/ disappointments, and the long collapse

Diplomatic Relations

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I fully intend to show Hamilton the delights of soft Oriental carpeting and a delicious new position I learned not long ago. It involves a silk scarf, a leather strap and some aromatic herbs.

Songs of Innocence

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I heard the worm was interested in the fat robin’s song.

whistle stop

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good bye suckers

Haikus for Miss Winehouse

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Drag queens weep sequins

Clab's Craws

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I realized something must be terribly wrong.

Anti

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“What do you call this place?” I didn't really want to talk much in there. For some reason, talking felt too—linear. The words seemed to have a kind of reverberation into associations that seemed somewhat meaningless at the time.”

A Brief History of The Real

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A little contempuous aside by the critical theorist guy, Frederick Jameson-- that it was logically absurd to call anything that human beings do, produce or effect “unnatural,”-- has brought forth the following. We are…

Precatio contra violo

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The drip of rank meat, his muzzle, his back-barbed tongue: red.

Glad the Moon Worked the Night Shift

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When we were seventeen, after her dad, the preacher, finished his Sunday night church services that required our mandatory attendance, we'd walk to my car in the pasture-turned parking lot holding hands and stop at the passenger-side car door to kiss deeply, get…

Гумилёв и Ахматова via странников

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Walking down an unfamiliar street, / I heard a sudden caw of crows, / some thunder afar, strums of a lute— / a streetcar came flying along.

Asshole

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This guy struts and never walks, and while doing so he reads and sends text messages and emails from his smart phone and so never walks in a straight line.

Fear in a Handful of Dust

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I fear my personal information travels the World Wide Web/ and mad Ukrainians will steal my name and wealth./ I fear the fiscal cliff and raising the ceiling on national debt./ I fear a death by taxes.

Mama

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So, I rough her up with sand paper, and hit her with chains, making dents. She examines her surfaces, tidily and efficiently, indicating the spots most in need of filling in with scratches and scrapes.

One Bag of Popcorn

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“Dad’s a dick,” my sister said. I nodded. He threw $20 on the candy counter for one small bag of popcorn and told the girl to keep the change.

The Faceless Girl Tells Stories

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spreading gilded pages with a tlickt

When I Met Ian Curtis

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Okay, no freaking out. I mean, this isn't a suicide note. This is suicide fiction.

Still Single

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“Yes, Mother, of course I’m still single. No, I haven’t joined the Army. No, I’m not moving back home.”

When To Wear Mascara

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it's time for the cold, antiseptic cloth to briskly remove the evidence.

It's Next Door

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The old lady from next door had been really quiet for the last few days.