Most read stories

Sed-a-give

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The way she once felt for another, naked mornings in her bed, and Young Frankenstein. Sed-a-give.

Writer's Envy

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You may think you've tasted envy, but yours was just a sour sip of wine at a civilized wine-tasting. Mine is bottom-shelf, well-brand gin in a biker bar with miss-the-urinal piss stains on the floor.

Happy Birthday... Mr. President

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Her dress swirled around her as she stepped into the ballroom, looking every bit as sultry as her recent Playboy cover...

a writer's plight.

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contact. intimacy. human fucking connection.

Robert, The Architect

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Robert Townsend had planned his suicide for ten years, and on July 10th, 2010 he took a long, hot shower to set the mood.

Arcana Magi Pure Vol.2 - c.3

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Ahead, she heard voices. She approached very slowly, as quiet as possible. She knelt behind a pair of shrubs and peeked through a small opening.

last light

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whisper to me

Full

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The trash is full. Again. I open the bathroom trash—because the diaper genie is stuffed—but there’s no room. I try the kitchen next. The lid swings open, catapulting carrot shavings onto the floor. I lay the diaper on the counter for later.

Gemini

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Not many people like Geminis.

Cogito Zero Sum

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When you encounter a body laying on the road, drive over it.

Indulgence

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I crave the confines of the convent

One of Four

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She stood with her sisters, pretty maids in a row, felt cold despite the scorching spring sun. Heard what the man said but didn’t register; words from the Lord flew around her like the flighty trill of the robins up above. The birds made more sense.

Sewing the Labyrinth

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If girls have keys for fingers then locks cannot hold them.

Camp #7

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One afternoon the kids from next door come over. Marion is our age, Jimmy a year younger. Marion's pretty. I can't even look at her.

At the Fair

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You're on the Ferris wheel, and the wind is blowing just a little bit, and the sky is invisible behind a wash of white clouds, and your little yellow box tips when you look down, down to the fairway swinging. In the boxes below grandmothers are shrieking …

The Threshold of Unfinished Business

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Uh oh, the dry cleaning ticket

Twin Lakes of Whiskey

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not that we ever had before

And the fucking black dress.

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The fucking black dress; the fucking black dress that obfuscates whether or not you're pretty in the face, that obfuscates the sound of your voice, that obfuscates the color of your hair, your eyez, your skin,

Why We're Going to Eat Uncle John's Suicide for Breakfast, Tomorrow

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[Party!]

An association game with the word 'guilt' (or how (not) to die inside)

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The past operates with incredible gravity. Powerful, efficient, deceptive. Thin, sleek cords sent out by it attach themselves to your back, your legs, your buttocks, the back of your head. Resist. Walk. One leg after another. Easy does it, like a baby. Do

Believing Everything I Read In Your Upturned Eyes

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It doesn't have to be force grown betweenus. We entwine naturally. It's agood feeling to have a friend who at oncedoesn't require a hothouse ceiling laidbetween each invisible touch. There's justwind. There's just rain. There's just sun. There's just you.There's just…

Chlorine Dream

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death spoke in a swimming pool in late june:

A Case of Mo Yan Blues

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my speech/ in Oslo.

The Red Suitcase: (Conclusion)

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—You must be joking, he laughed.

Darkroom Tech

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Entering that darkroom is like slipping through the barrel of a rifle.

On Socks

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There’s a hole in my sock, just large enough that my big toe keeps slipping out.

Adios

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After seventeen years of struggling to wake up early in the morning, I had managed to wake up on my own. Actually, I think it was because I was unable to sleep that I was up so early. I had laid on the bed all night, staring at the dark ceiling, taking in every…

We call them the Removal Men

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They came early and parked up, under cover of the night and the giant oak. I only know this because people told me afterwards. Watching us, they were. It was six o'clock before they smashed their way in, scaring the three of us out of our wits. Baby Billy screamed the place…

Karmic Tide

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Digging in another garden, jumping into another space and time, I impaled a toad on the tines of a garden fork. At first I thought the toad was a clump of clay, stuck to the thick tine, but before I could kick the clay off with my…

The Color

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The artist glides through an art supply store looking for a color within. She can feel the color, but she can't name it. She can almost see it, but it's not that kind of color. It's not like, say, blue or red, a primary color that animates flags or exotic ceremonies.…