1614 4 3
|
|
161464
|
The cat wound itself around Megan’s neck, its purring curling through Megan’s consciousness. She was the cat and then herself, both things at once.
|
161465
|
We now live in post-Postmodern Absurdist fear of course, says our smiling Prof. That’s the price we pay he tells us. . . .
|
161421
|
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
|
16141610
|
Shadows are so admirable in film noir
less so on x-rays and mammograms
|
161485
|
|
161381
|
|
161397
|
After lunch I left my office and trickled along like a slow leak, a notch above meandering; gravity had become a lateral force that pulled me forward.
|
161332
|
"Why, before the summer has passed
You won’t remember her name. . ."
|
161332
|
I could smell a bold combination of cheap perfume, stale smoke, and sex excreting from her weathered pores. The bus engine hummed as we climbed a winding road. She scratched her neck and tried to finger comb through her knotted hair. I caught a glimpse of
|
161330
|
The Snowman grinned malevolently as the Sugar Plum fairies shook in their tiny powdered boots."Santa has one more hour and then you're all marshmallow toasts!" the Snowman said. He laughed and he laughed. His evil plan? He wanted the key to time delivered to him personally…
|
161300
|
Mint upon my palate, I rub sleep infused eyes and crawl under the covers. Oh blessed sleep, please descend upon this body and transverse this fatigue. Eyes closed, bring a wavering blackness upon subtle lids. The conversation begins…
|
161344
|
Charles tapped the anger management code on his steering wheel. He rolled down his street and saw Jack Watson throwing stuff into the trunk of his black Volvo coupe. He waved, but Jack did not wave back. Jack's face was blazing red. He looked like he might have a…
|
1612114
|
He is leaning back against a pillar watching the dancing; a spectator to joy – both planned and spontaneous – that’s unfolding in bodies fourteen and fifteen years old in front of him.
|
161211
|
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
|
161251
|
Nicole knows that Deirdre is winding up for the weekly pitch, practicing the line in her mind.
|
161200
|
Street by street, non-combatants ran away. Each one passed by the Society and law enforcement screaming.
|
161212
|
“Choices overwhelmed us,” Thomas continued, years later, “like waves crashing.”
|
161253
|
under your skin the moon is alive
|
16121410
|
A woman posted a story on Fictionaut about discovering that her husband was a werewolf.
|
161298
|
we name invasive species,
|
161266
|
It's really not too bad. The personI am was me. We laughed insidethose sacred places at all the monieswell spent. We walked in the gardenswithout any shoes on. Not one singleflower seemed to mind. And now it'sa forgotten mess or so I've imagined.I'd rather you think about…
|
161299
|
I’m from the Land of Sky Blue Waters. I grew up in a lake. I think I’m half fish.
|
161277
|
You think I don't know, that's your whole stupid problem. You don't believe in anyone. You must enjoy living in a dark lonely universe. I don't know if you know or not about the lights that live in your own head, but I believe …
|
161252
|
That contraption he’d invited her to pedal, somebody oughta market one of those. The closer you got the harder it got, and her feet kept slipping off the pedals. It was maddening.
|
1612105
|
The catchy tune and cloying lyrics/
nonetheless etch their patterns
|
1612104
|
The aisle, nave and/
transept twist themselves/
into an auditorium.
|
161271
|
There was an empty box on his facebook page asking to be filled in with, “What’s on your mind?” He thought. "Hair?"
|
161243
|
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
|
161285
|
We will collapse in a storm of images
|
