Most read stories

solace

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the frost has made all tender greens bow

Lastborn

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Being the baby in a family forces a focused outlook on life. Not necessarily profound, not even wry, but a perspective that pushes for two things - recognition, and to be in on whatever is going on.

Wanna Bet?

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I was always more comfortable with the ponies than you were / more comfortable with betting windows and two-dollar bills than you were

A Thousand Miles Away

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In the house by a kidney-shaped lake, her grandfather was speaking to a stranger about a foreign war that had never ended, had spread close to home.

The Essence Of Story

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We all tell them/even when our mothers warned us only the Devil/tells stories

Everything the Traffic Will Allow

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there’s more to life than poontang but not when you’re sixteen and your hands are full of heavy breasts

Snapshots

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On a street-lit night in Jeddah.

What's that on your glasses?

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The shit just doesn't want to come off.

August

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One moustache hair at moustache level on a filmy bathroom mirror. A red velvet spread on a big round bed. Dear Ma: We saw a bearded lady.

String Money

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I said hey man, how you doin’? He looked up and nodded but his shades flashed and I couldn’t see his eyes.

Leap

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I was driving by with a dampened eye

Assiduity Seventeen

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In the darkness, as I awaken, an orange glowing 3:45 greets me . . .

benedictus

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he wanders the house/ crying for the hairless tomcat/ (gone for the night/ on an overnight job).

Dumpster

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When flash and bang merge you are, according to the manual, in deep do-do.

Vitamin D

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I caught her a-feasting with her eyes and smilin' at that Jesus- haired Waffle House cook, Dennis Roy, again and I said, “Merlene, my tiny kitty-kat, they's no reason to carry no torch for him ‘cause he may not be with us very long ‘cause, if you notice, they's no…

Sunny Side

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I was so used to the silence of late summer afternoons, when I could roll my hoop through the empty, sunlit piazzas without meeting another shadow, that at first I mistook the footsteps for the beat of a metronome spilling through an open window.

Homunculus

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Tiny was my daughter. Or what was left of her. A mucous-y chunk of what was once in my womb and then wasn’t.

Keys

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life, bro/bra

Martin

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He'd sit or stand, as if this was common to see: in the street walking by, such a man.

White Room

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A white room is empty but for you, a card table and a chair.

Thumbing For a Ride

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Here comes my speed dealer he's riding shotgun in the open

Manliness!! *urp*

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It starts on the Fallopian Speedway

Writing Prompt 5086992075

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Set your three-word story in prison.

You'll Never Get Anything Accomplished on an Empty Stomach

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The Star Trek marathon ends, and he flips channels. An episode of Full House is on. The cheesy plot lines and attractive women (specifically, DJ Tanner in the late seasons) have become a freakish comfort. In today's episode, the Tanners are baby sitt

Across US Sullen Teens Dump Family for Olive Garden

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"That zit on your forehead just won't go away, will it, sweetie?" she adds as she brushes her daughter's bangs downward.

An Articulation of Blades

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The new king hunted often. We heard her whirring above, the terrible whirring a forest of—, and she drifted over our city half dangling from the chopper, rifle barrel glinting.

Lovelandtown Tavern

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James Hubert III sat at the bar. It was late. His wife and kids were long in bed and he knew he should be, too. But with the Lovelandtown lift bridge stuck in mid-air, a drink beckoned him. He sat next to Vince DeSantos, a small, stout man, with a bowling

Sunday Morning in the ER

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We do the work of fixing people like him?

Abraham

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I came late to sunrise. The hills were lit / with goats.

The Evacuation Queue

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The ticking must have gone on for an hour before Kathy realized it wasn't a clock. When the line finally moved, the rhythm changed. When the queue stopped again, she glanced behind her and noticed a woman in torn jeans and a filthy sweater tapping a heel on the…