Most read stories

Terror From Above

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A shadowless torpedo shaped form plummeted from the grey, overcast skies upon the many unsuspecting. No remote pilot thousands of miles away guided this particular descent. 

Salem the Dead

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My father's cousin is Salem the Dead. Famed, an infant Lazarus of Libya, he was brought lifeless from the womb, yet awoke to the chill of a mortuary slab.

Exchange Student

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Sometimes he could feel so small he believed he could fit through the eye of a needle.

At the Jube

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I started walking around the Jube like any other sheep, lemming, or penguin: passing plate glass windows, one after another.

The Need To Tell Somebody

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He just had to tell somebody. Anybody. So he called up his publisher, L., who agreed to meet him at Oliveira’s for a drink. It only took about ten minutes to walk there from his big duplex in the Elmwood, where he was still living with his wife among

Tin Girl

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Like some beautiful yet macabre puppet, she was suspended on strings of wire, painstakingly threaded tubing flowing into her cavities, through her chambers, around her mechanics.

The Tourists

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They acquire him in a bar that is famous for its shipwrecks.

My Coyote

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I say her- it might be him-/ but from a distance I supply the details I prefer.

Unwritten

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You’re never really asleep. I am never awake. But as the darkness fades, I read. Your body tells my story.

Storm and Shelter

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Sometimes one person's shelter is another person's storm.

Outside Thunder Pallets

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Carl’s peculiarity of toilet paper rolls is not covered under the Americans with Disabilities Act – he’s looked it up.

Misplaced Emotions

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I spent most of those days in my car. Stashed in the trunk was a cache of precious stones, neatly sorted and separated, bound in smooth black velvet inside a smooth black briefcase.

The Search

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“Sixty-seven responses!” Al Edelstein announces at the first meeting of the search committee. It has been just two weeks since Rabbi Feldman dropped dead of a heart attack and just a week since the congregation ran the ad: “Help Wanted: Orthodox Rabbi. Im

Oopsy-Daisy!

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[This story definitely WON'T be appearing in this month's "Alfred Hitchock's Mystery Magazine"!]

North of Center

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Paulette lived on the east side on Paulette Avenue. Mama dropped me off when we wanted to play Barbies. Her neighborhood was a little green lily pad in a swamp of blight and disrepair. A ghetto moat ringed around those three fancy blocks like a first line of defense,…

Ilex Cahokia and A Common Piece

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remembering Cahokia, a place we rent near the water's edge, for we dare not enter

Wrinkles, Men and Shades of Gray

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You stand in the mirror. You see yourself. You stand sideways; your profile is always your best. You tuck in your stomach, you stick out your ass but it's the same. You stand face front. You shiver. The mirror adds weight to your already sagging breasts, the wrinkles…

Dawn

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Fat robins are chirping – loudly – at 4 a.m. They’re trying to delude the worms into thinking it’s dawn already The worms get up underground They’re grumpy, they bump into things They come up to the surface and Wham! That

ROLLING LIKE THUNDER

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The ocean smelled like decomposed plant life and clinically despicable vagina, but I still spoke of its power and my fear of it in moonlit clichés and she still listened.

Junkyard Angel Baby Nomad

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"We gotta get out of here", you said

Helene

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My little friend is no bigger than a minute. An even five feet tall, if that.

DRIVING WITH JON

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“There’s no real freedom in this world. But a car and the open road is close enough for government work.”

The Widow and a Portrait of Jesus in Grayson's Nursing Home

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He'd hung above her head for months.

The Sextant

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I was hope, and you were what I can only call consolation, as day after day you remained a grief in my throat.

Time Travel Telephone

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And now, the weather. The Cloud Wranglers have roped three solid clouds this morning, preventing the clouds from raining iron bars onto Human Brain Storage Center #17.

Dirty Movies

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He liked to take pictures of her, and she liked to pose. It made her horny, she said.

Wink

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It's just another night in the old city, perched in the skeletal radio tower with my collection of telescopes

Bron-yr-Aur

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The night we broke into Bron-yr-Aur it was too cold to make love. I said I wasn't horny anyway. You put your hand on my forehead: Are you ill?

My wife denies being my older self.

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What are you, my judge?

A Game of Dodge Ball

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Mo Dean woke up sober. And tired. Tired of life, of soiled pants, rash, vomit, and whiskey sweat. Tired of holes in his pockets and blisters on his feet, of hanging signs asking for dimes and getting only pennies. And most of all, tired of the police.