1642 4 4
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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.
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164240
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We’re more into the punishment that works its way in through the skin and coats the heart anonymously.
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164221
|
A look flashed across his face as if someone had hooked up his genitals to a car battery.
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164243
|
A story about convincing people to do things they don't want to do, written entirely in dialogue; originally published by CHEAP POP.
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1642104
|
The aisle, nave and/
transept twist themselves/
into an auditorium.
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164277
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I’m decades in and it hasn’t gone away.
In all other respects, I am normal. Life
is hard, but I’m not complaining. The thing
is, I am in a constant state of falling.
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164254
|
It was uncomfortable to realize people had agendas. That there could be invisible realities.
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164243
|
I still see Big Mama leaning over her garden to pick a zinnia to put in her still life. Her old pink slip, hanging diagonally a foot under her hiked up, ragged, stained dress, half covered by her paint smock, which matched her white, faux fur, bedroom sli
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164231
|
The blackout lasted longer than anyone thought. From my fifth story window, the whole city seemed to shut down. I heard noises above me. How could it be?
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16411210
|
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164187
|
I supposed reluctantly that Princeton is soft as Macalester College is soft. A person could die just for having attended U.W.-Madison or Yale.
|
164122
|
" I have no idea what's goin on out here, and I'm gonna find out one way or another."
|
164167
|
These little things, they are the hopes We were waiting for, they are everywhere. I made this one just for you. Call them feathers. Call them roses. You'll always See them if you need them. These Little things carry the good news…
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164142
|
Culloden County, MS - 1989 All Janine knew was the idiot had a gun. As to why he would ever need one was beyond her. He couldn't look dumber holding it, either. He was too small for it, or at least he looked that way to…
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16411210
|
What did it mean? What would a psychologist say? Oh, who cares. In my opinion, we ask why, what, when, where, and how too often.
|
164198
|
On my twenty-second birthday, in the spring of 1979, I had a crawfish boil, my first. Ninety pounds of red mudbugs on a picnic table spread with newspaper, my birthday cake sitting at the end of the table like an afterthought.I hadn't…
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164140
|
The way each intersection in a city where you’ve lived a while becomes layered with personal archeology.
The cafe that replaced a liquor store you avoided, and the friend (or lover) you broke up with there,
and the way on the day of the big fire you
|
16411410
|
A woman posted a story on Fictionaut about discovering that her husband was a werewolf.
|
164143
|
Auto and the Grease-Pits
Sugar Cube
Full Frontal
The Holy Grill
Crazy Al and the Squirrels
Talk Is Cheap
Grilled Cheese Sandwich
Cold Zippers
Destiny Howl
Epiphany Critter
Cold Kneecaps
Crepes
Pulled Pork
Baby Seals and the Club
|
164100
|
Megumi paused for a moment, understanding Mrs. Akamatsu’s concern, but looking back at the Society, she shook her head in rejection.
|
164130
|
my molars are dancing, tekka-tekking to the strung-out paint can groove of my heart.
|
16412110
|
The fly comes in against my will/
and hers. She would prefer/
the wider world with its piles of shit
|
164131
|
The man had decided that this was going to be his last day. He’d find out one final thing and he’d be done. He had spent the last few years of his life unwinding things that had been wound and untying knots that had been tied.
|
164121
|
This was before the cancer, years before. He did this every day: up at five, before Astrid and Max. Four cups of coffee in the machine. A bowl of granola. Five hundred words. Five hundred words no matter goddamn what. Five hundred words on Sunday and Chri
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164174
|
Each memory of Fall reminds me of the harvest; Surely this is not a thought to turn the thought of dying. Black the turning point, there is a glint at the tip of the wing: Perhaps it rises from its cinders as I wish when I was waning, …
|
164111
|
children love to push the gas up and down my limbs
|
1641105
|
addict for validation and cat tongues
|
164141
|
On our back porch, the tiki torches are lit and so am I.
|
164011
|
1. Poor grammar does not sleep. 2. We'll never finish every idea we have. 3. No matter how hard you try, you still might make it into my book
|
1640103
|
Palms planted firmly against his temples, Travis paced the room like a caged animal. Giant black bats screeched in his brain, their pointy wings scraping at the edges of his cranium.
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