Most read stories

Twenty Questions

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Did you take out the trash? Did you water the ficus? Did you cancel the cable? Did you take my black sweater? Did you tell the neighbors? Will you get the friends? What about the cat? Will you send me a Christmas card? Will I tear it up? Did you know…

Body to go

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I’m squatting naked over the hand mirror, feet cold on the terrazzo floor, looking at my winking arsehole.

Untitled NaNo Project

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My name is Sydnée Figge, and this is the beginning of my story. I suppose it should be said that even though people call me Syd, I am not a man. People who can actually see me know that right away, and I’m not ashamed of that even though I’m a bit olde

Better Alive Than Dead

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How many of them, I'm wondering, are just going through the motions until the power goes out and never comes back on again? They've got to know the Americans will never let the city fall to the færies.

Floater

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Just because I’m suicidal doesn’t mean I don’t care about whacking my head on some service railing ten stories down. The fact that I’m going to jump doesn’t lessen my fear of propellers or a broken back.

Papadad: a portrait

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Papadad has one good eye. The other fell out during a rant and has since been replaced by a rifle scope, which he uses to scrutinise enemies.——Papadad is an authority on everything, even topics he has not researched. He expatiates on these at the dinner table,…

The Cold Never Bothered Anything Anyways

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What kind of person would she be remembered as if she died over night and someone looked in her freezer? She took out a package of bacon from the freezer that was dated 2009.

AA For the Suicidal - alt.punk extract

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The drive back to Sac does nothing to sober me up, either, and although Avaline and I are ready to hurl, she takes me to her afternoon support group, “Lean On Me: A Place for Manic-Depressive and Bipolar Sufferers to Come Together.”

quacking

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there she was, this beautiful duck with her 4 beautiful babies, under my bush.

Visitation

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My mother looked up and began to laugh, it was a nervous tittering, but there was delight in her eyes at the crazy spectacle of our small black puppy eluding, probably taunting all these armed police.

The Killer

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It don't knock you down to the goddamned ground and push your face into the mat and dare you to get back up. Just so it can knock you down again. They don't have real dreams. Dreams that make them wake up in the middle of the night. Hurting. Wanting.

Truffle Socks

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Imagine instead the skater's lean feat, the toes which, honestly, may represent 25% of the entire length. The superb way she slips them into the boots. They smell like truffles.

The Road To Baghdad

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In late summer 2000 Dick Cheney held a secret strategy meeting in a hunting lodge deep in the hills of southeastern Wyoming. It was Cheney's own place, bought with the money he'd ripped from the trough with both hands through decades of what…

Why Men Compete

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It starts on the Fallopian Speedway

Wild Dreams of Reality, Chapter 15

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Darrell looked at me, then down at himself. He was still in his wet underwear. "What is this?" he said, looking up again. "Where in the hell was I?" He shook his head. "It was weird, Philip. Boy, that was one wild dream." "That was no d

Gateway Love

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Gateway Loves are lethal. They do not discriminate between bot or flesh, primary or clone.

newsmakers

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was yesterday’s dawn breaking in the high sky/ meant for us?

Thursday

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Every Thursday, around 11 am, right after the cemetery where I work receives the daily shipment of cremated remains to be interred, a frail nonagenarian steps out of the driver's seat of his Lincoln Continental and walks, unassisted, up a flight of twenty granite steps,…

Floating Away

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Soon, she will turn to liquid

Infinite Penis

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He finds a beach ball and recreates humanity upon it. Kicking it down the shore he wonders how the little people must feel about each other. To place them on such a tiny globe almost seems unfair.

En Pointe

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Her gaunt arms softly rose, sweeping in front of her with movements that were hesitant at first but, as the music that only she could hear took her in its grip, became graceful and assured.

Rough Draft

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fated and cruel, a person I don't love

Heart vs. Head

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Where was it? Tino wondered, craning his neck, plastic bag in hand. He would have sworn there was a Barnes & Noble along this stretch. Had it closed since his mother had last been in the hospital two years ago?

Dirty Aubade

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We could kiss under the elder tree, even though it was forbidden, even though we were drowned by the noise of the river and nothing we said was right

Homage to Jack

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Yes. Yes. Yes.

Tilly Artaud

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After not going out for weeks, I went to a bar and met an electrical engineer, a motorcycle racer who raced in the Black Hills, a Renaissance man, in a relationship with a young married woman, and I told him about the toad.

Life of Charlotte

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A wall of icons can be beautiful if you don’t look closely at the hands. The hands tell stories of too short lives and unrequited love.

The Violinist

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Max leads the parade up the hill. He is sawing on his violin, wearing nothing but a raincoat.

Wild Dreams of Reality, 9

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As we sat at the cafe, Darrell told me that he had to make a mushroom delivery to one of his clients in Berkeley. I never knew whether it was legal or illegal business he was on, and he made a point of not telling me, because he said it was better I didn

Syllables of the Dead

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Nothing has changed// except the toys and fashion.