Most read stories

On the Roof

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Marie was on the roof. The deck, with its cool concrete pavers and faded cedar Adirondack chairs, was one of the reasons she and Harold had bought their condo in this building. The only ugly part of the roof was the chain-link fence along its edge; soon after they moved…

Mother O'Grady's Last

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Christmas night was closing in at the Cantrips alehouse in Aberdeen, a firm favourite for riggers and other men and women who lived life close to the horizon. Sometimes, on a Saturday night, things might get a bit rowdy but Mother O'Grady would stand firm and bring out…

February 16, 2006

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When we arriveand are met by strange friendsstrange like the fog on the redreed mudflatsthat span the low tide around Incheon -When we arrivecarrying so much we will not needlike the bus they hire to take us through the darksix people to fill so much more space - When…

A Scalar Boson a Day

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. . . the empiricism of the mechanical had wound tight into her, lessons her few calendars could never impart without aid from sundials, hourglasses, clocks.

Ode To My Hangover

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you utter fucker.

Three in a Major Key

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One can watch the grass green/ in response. One can watch the world green/ in response.

Some Assembly but No Singularity Required

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The phone rings. The oven beeps./ The locomotive whistles and howls.

Arcana Magi Zero + Pure - c.8

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Megumi paused for a moment, understanding Mrs. Akamatsu’s concern, but looking back at the Society, she shook her head in rejection.

Winter '69

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One minute Rudy was sitting up close to me, asking me how could Geppetto make a little boy out of a piece of wood, and the next, Steve was pounding up the stairs, yelling, "Carla, get blankets, warm clothes; we're leaving, we won't be back."

Kilz

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He flipped through a book of poems Ani’d given me. Nothing fell out so he tore it in two. I said his mama must notta read to this one and one of the older cops laughed and he hit me.

Bonfire

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On our back porch, the tiki torches are lit and so am I.

Mr. Kunitz, Mr. Lowell, Mrs. Craig

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Although I think we can easily work it out because we are not here in the Yale graduate school, and diction is the theme of the story. Diction is a choice in language.

Unkilled Jeff

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"Oh — what is this 'work' thing the philosophers speak of" sort of thing.

Prophetstown

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The elders of the town will tell you that as soon the prophet mill arrived everything went to Hell. Before the process was streamlined, prophets used to be grown organically in the community. They popped up only where the ground was tilled and a prayer was planted. They…

Unconscious Primate Pandemic Panic

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I wrap my left foot

Five Million Yen: Chapter 58

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Anatoly Gringovitch was listening to the dress rehearsal of Hausenstockmann’s Constellations at Auditorium Rainier III in Monte Carlo.

Windows

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The Kid, The Executive, The Doctor, and The Actress.

The Eleventh Brother, After the Swan

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I turned a maiden to a witch / and back again

Blackish by Reason of the Ice

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"Sara, do you taketh it with your eyes?"

Ladybird

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On the other pillow is a ladybird which escaped from a dream. It reminds me of when I was a tiny red polka dot. And then bigger, and other colours. And then… I stare at the ceiling, searching its soul for little things. The ladybird touches my arm, whispers…

Axes

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You think about the first time you saw an axe

HEADLINES

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Warranties are what made America great, although hers has expired and the mailbox will remain empty for another fifteen days.

Conversations

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That won’t kill me, will it? I asked. Maybe, the doctor said.

Chicken Noodle

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Damn this airplane

1888: Mrs. Sherwood

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Margaret will take her seven away from his raging Irish hammers slurry Saturday night honks smashing red eyes. They'll board a secret train countryside bound where they sing the songs of her own dead Mam who lived poor in the world but…

The Book

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The following is a true story, or rather it is a true experience from the story of my life. Some say that just because something happens doesn’t really make it “true”.

The Sound of Human Lives

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The room smelled of an old rank basement. Boys and girls of all ages crowded the stage. The room was dark with only a few lights that hung from above keeping the crowd dark and silhouetting Chris on drums.

Same Old Song and Dance

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You want to get laid talking socks

Pillow

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“I was just dreaming about you,” he said, sleepy-voiced. “What's for breakfast?”

Should Have Gotten Delivery Instead

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My mind raced at the endless possibilities one could die while driving to get a pizza.