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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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One day we went for a hike. We climbed a small mountain. It’s called Mission Peak. We got about halfway up a steep trail, decided that was far enough. We embraced. She said “I love you,” and I said, “I love you, too.”
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But I still don't have my underwear in the right place.
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A cow wanders onto a roof and falls through the skylight. It's a calamity, but such an innocent mistake. Mightn't you amble onto a rooftop once upon a full winter snow in Vermont?Another cow climbs a gravel mound in…
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Enough, Trump.We've had it my dear, with your pink ties, your hairs, your swagger, towers, your plenty of monies,your tempers, your honeys. I don't speak for all, not at all, but for many who never did like your style or bile, your tenacious temerity,…
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I like how you completely disappeared inside a undetermined and yet planned point of pretty good view, like a rabbit with a gold chained pocket watch, like a stunned, frozen bird with a still burning bullet in its tinyfeathered brain. You could…
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. . . a visitor from the preceding century would have been aghast to the point of vomiting to behold the regard with which pandas were now held almost universally.
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My mother's afraid the dog will drown. It's raining and our street is flooding and the dog is standing on top of his doghouse. My mother is pregnant. I can stand beneath her stomach and not even see her face. I watch her from the kitchen window. She's shoeless. She holds…
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I thought about how chocolate or an hour massage, can almost trump sex. Then, I bought a chocolate bar and ate it all, without consulting the serving size. It was dark chocolate, 82%, worth it in the short term--- mmmm.
I thought about getting stoned.
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Bill was queasy, short of breath, his chest tightening. He was next. How he hated this game of confession. It was harder than going to a priest, which at least allowed a measure of anonymity. True, these were friends, yet, in terms of the game, he was vastly…
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There’s no sky like that, with twisting clouds shot up into by cypress trees that are so like dark green flames, leaping out of the earth as if a dark green oily pool were on fire underground, and this was all that could escape, was its essence.
And a
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Another siege/
with kamikaze fervor.
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After she died, clearing out her safe deposit box at the local bank, I found more numberplates.
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Is every librarian a poet at heart? I don't know, but a group of librarians recently put their heads together and came up with these library-themed Valentine's Day poems: Roses are red Your book's overdue You've had it for months Which is…
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All young and loud and big and I swear her face like a lighthouse lamp, glowing—I remember thinking, ‘She’s drunk at nine in the morning.’
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published in The Doctor T.J. Eckleburg Review.
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During the day we search for truffles. I have a pig named Henry. He is a big help. He wanders the forest sniffing for truffles like a parable of porcine inquisitiveness. He knows what he is doing. He is not just a pig. Nor ordinary pig. He is a French pig
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It's difficult to remember, much less write down, the hard times you thought were unforgettable when you have a full stomach. It's hard to remember that dirty little room you rented in that house, from a Bosnian landlord, on 27th avenue and Missouri. The…
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Every time she tries to sleep they come; legions of small armored things scuttle claws aloft across the purple sand as soon as she stops moving.
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A large crowd of students began to gather around the base of the building that housed the administrative offices, where my hearing was being held. The meeting room was up on the second floor.
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Some nights you really feel it.
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Trollo Martinez was wearing a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses and an old LA Community College T-Shirt. He needed to find some water so he could down the 5milligram tab of Ritalin in the palm of his hand.
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As I go by I see five, six high school kids standing on the corner waiting for the bus. They are huddled together like a bunch of ducks....
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That led to the first aid box on the bed at 3 in the morning, but what about those veggies?
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Mayra heard the bell ring and opened the door to her small home in downtown Havana. Mayra was in her 50's and had the beautiful dark olive skin of most Cuban people who have a mix of Caucasian and Negro in their blood.
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The water rolls gently this evening, barely touching my toes before retreating. The tide has been going out for over an hour and already there are several victims – crustaceans, spider crabs, minnows.
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They think Van Gogh heard music when he looked at his starry nights. Working at a Bingo parlor, you get to believing in a one-in-a-million shot just as much as you doubt the rarity of a sure thing.
I only worked part time at the bingo parlor because I ne
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As a boy I fished under the Tappan Zee bridge which spans the Hudson River above New York City.
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