1668 1 1
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Later, your father stared, confused, at the empty spot where the wall paint layers ended in the shape of the old machines. He stopped coming in.
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166892
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Dear Sir/ Madam I wish to apply for the position you advertised in the Daily Sun. Although my expertise is in self-obliteration and self-worth (or lack of), and my work mainly in disappointment, I do have much experience in failure, which this letter will…
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1668113
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As a young baby, perhaps a year old, I have a memory of sitting on myfathers lap, in front of a coal stove to keep us warm, while my mothercooked soft boiled eggs for him every morning. He would break offa piece of his toast, dip it in the egg, and feed it to…
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166821
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The story itself is not much longer than a snippet. What is a snippet anyway?
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166852
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Maybe this very short story is about shyness. Maybe. I'm not sure.
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166893
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“You have no idea what your lives will be like if you can get out of the ‘hood. You could be driving Volvos, eating Tuscan cuisine, getting MacArthur ‘genius’ grants!”
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166854
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...listening to the ache of errs our mouths had become.
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16671511
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Poor, pocked Ceres- dwarf planet/
trapped among mere asteroids-
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166710
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I laughed maniacally in my head at the thought, but I kept picking at it all the same, the bunnies had plans for us.
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166774
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Once again there's too much to handle and
no space to process
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1667116
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I write poems as if language matters.
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1667278
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She asked if I needed to be measured for size “to make sure they feel really good on you,” her lips all gloss and smile. I was nineteen and knew my size but changes in weight had caused fluctuations before so maybe I'd be different…
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166711
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The room turns red and I start screaming and ejaculating. The whole class is watching as Mr.Smith slams down my copy of the test with his right hand and swiftly tears off my penis with his left.
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166797
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I want to tell you things you do not know.
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1667108
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Sunday morning beginning with a bang. Accused, found wanting, sentenced.
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1667116
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The days cut off by damp chill with every thought a different variety of protection.
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166798
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166621
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Naked Lady? I know that from somewhere. Then he remembered. That's what they called those old 1930's and 40's Conn saxophones, Naked Ladies. How would Smith know that?
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166665
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This writers' conference (sponsored by VQR, which had run its banner ad atop the Fictionaut home page in the summer of 2014, which begins to explain both my attendance and this essay) revealed itself as an apt subject . . .
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166621
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Allie didn't share that moment with Jim. That moment he spoke about whenever they made new friends as a couple— that moment he planned to recount at their engagement party.
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16661011
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She left knives and hot pots with handles akimbo. Like a guardian angel, he turned them in. Like an ungrateful Eve, she turned them back out.
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166621
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Slipshod shoes were the first sign of a meltdown. Sometimes she could see it coming. A prickly gentleman washing his clothes on a Thursday afternoon. One week he’s fine. Nothing wrong with owning a sour face. The next Thursday, his shoes don’t match.
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166698
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Everybody called her The Crier because from time to time we would hear her crying.
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166675
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...the daffodils will fling/
their yellow petals, taunting winter
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166610
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Floating along the ebbs of the ocean,toward the horizon, where time has no say,an end that will never be reached.
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166686
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in late fall, Rome, sans wind, sans rancor,
sans sand or rain, sans hate ...
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166611
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I don't know, I could go on all day with these little niches he found in every person that made them at least a little interesting.
Everyone collects baseball cards.
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166500
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“A shibboleth is a test—a way to separate da wheat from da chaff that's as old as the Bible, but as new as the latest trend in men's fashions,” Gus says.
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166500
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“Hello, Cheryl” the voice on the other end of the phone replied. It was strong but raspy, yet quiet and controlled. The fellow sounded like he had a frog in his throat.
“How do you know my name?” she asked.
“I know a lot of things about y
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166522
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my mouth is open, ready to bite your tiny toes
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