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My novel-in-stories, NAN, is now available as an ebook for $6.99. Thanks to everyone who read the first 7 published stories here on Fictionaut.
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Alysia stretched her left hand out at Kurai, and the electricity connected with her fingertips like beacon.
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When he took Medieval German Lit in graduate school, Ackermann read Der Ackermann aus Böhmen by Johannes von Tepl. His professor was amused both by his last name and that his grandparents were Germans from Bohemia. Of course, only his grandmother was from Bohemia and…
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“Tell me again,” you whisper softly, “about the songbird.”
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I am a shadow. Cooler than liquid. I don't need a container to take shape.
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The snake-like veins began to pulsate angrily, and viciously about his body. Quickly he rose up about the girl. His heart was now pounding rapidly against his chest. Outstretched, were his wings, the width of the balcony, white and decrepit and old, yet s
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In his fridge he had one piece of meat. He hadn’t been expecting me. I cooked it for him and watched him eat.
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His velvet mouth, shaped perfectly to intertwine with hers, teases the space between them until its caress finds her.
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A powerful song is often a result of imaginative storytelling through a unique “voice” and pitch-perfect musicality.
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Later I asked Mark if he wanted to watch, but his wife wouldn’t let him. She didn’t like kinky stuff, she said.
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They're bound to wonder what sort of offspring we'll hatch. We've done the tests, we are cross-fertile.
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‘They will follow, but we have to go now’
‘Wait , I can see something familiar...’
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You're thinking I don't have a conscience, right? I'm asking you.
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But the boy next door is worse than a dweeb; he's a prima donna and a bully and a little shit to boot. The divorce will only make him more.
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powerless against the memory of the earth-bank and the river flows, through a susurrus field of a million quills
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The electricity animates my body into myclonic dance. I do not rest. I dance with the demons; I dance with Nijinsky rage. I dance with the fury of Saint Vitus and his wooden cross. My shoes are fashioned with my own fear, tanned and stretched over my feet
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I like my men like I like my wine: in a box.
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When I finally went back to school in the fourth grade, after coming down with polio, my classmates were very welcoming, though I couldn't go outside and run around like them yet at recess or lunch time. That would come, just not right away. But it was th
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Bitch My brother is the only person who dared to slaughter a bitch and its five puppies. It is sickening to write this story. Sickening to read it. This happened on Sunday night when the muezzin called for the prayer. The puppies were…
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this reaching, this striving to love like it's there becoming something we need.
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Assimilated wheat germ
integrated ant worm
the capital of brazil.
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I had some words, but the truth is they don't mean a thing because whatever it is I was trying to say to you always crumbles to the ground in front of you. I had some words, but the bullying wind was stronger than me and ripped them…
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It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t scary. It wasn’t great. And it never is with people.
Except..eventually..when you meet the right person..it is.
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I cannot find my way back to the bubbling navel of the universe because of Spongebob Squarepants.
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Renee said, "I have actually slept with a number of Captains of Industry and would rate them, overall, deficient in skills."
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["Mea Culpa" means: I don't care what you think, sorry is when I feel like making you hear me say it.]
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It might not seem easy to breathe any love into a name like Father. It’s a stiff word—it’s not soft, like, say, Papa—but sometimes you have to breathe love into names you don’t choose.
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I think of our first morning in front of the mirror and the hairbrush that we shared—the hairs in it brown from you, blonde from me. I miss this day and when I cannot sleep, I watch your window from my room until your light goes out. Sometimes, I can se
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