Most read stories

Man Writing Story With Ears Plugged About Painter Who Only Hears in Color; Black Ink, 2002

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Ready, here we go.

There is no heartbeat, Mrs Stirling.

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I lost a baby two years ago. At 8.5 weeks after seeing her heart beat. I haven't been able to talk about it, but I can write about it. My throat cracks and splinters when I begin to form a thought or word or phrase. I took such great care when…

Speaking to the Dead

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I didn't hear your last words or see your lasteyes. I didn't reach you in time, so I sat by your corpse,silently saying goodbye. I am in that process,not sour, not sweet, that yoked speaking which can't(because the heart won't let it) utter its whisperedlast word, but…

Fictionaut or Not? Write On.

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Okay, I'm here; I'm participating. Enjoying the back & forth with other writers. Waiting for penises and fetuses to move down the "Most Recent" list, but working around them. Well, that's kind of unintentionally visual.This essay, like many other reads on here, is…

The Blocked Toxin

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Listen to chickadees. Join / LinkedIn.

Thick as Thieves (my new gang)

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He reached into the bag on the table and pulled out a ten inch record, sleeved in brown paper, with a circle cut out to display the label information. He handled it delicately, like a fresh egg.

The Night Before School Starts

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A familiar ritual by now...

Monday Lunch

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Earlier that morning a tree in the yard had filled with starlings, and on the way home after lunch, the sky held planes that looked like starlings, floating together.

Inheritance

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My father died. I took his clothes.

November Odds

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The stars align against us. Lines of force/ collaborate to push us off the edge/ into the dark abyss we’ve joked about.

Lost Clouds

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This is a nice illusion, here with you. The world Is meant to fill your eyes. You remind me of Everything right now. This is a nice illusion, here with You. It's all morning light. The wind playing with your Hair lifts my spirits, too. Seagulls…

The Twenty Minute War

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Maybe there was no truth. Things had become so strange that sometimes Jannsun suspected that everything had already happened and we were just toying with selective memory.

The Whole Deal with the 'Willamette's Weak-Links'

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[My baloney has a first name: it's Oh, Ess, Cee, Ay -- shit! I forget the rest! Can we start over?]

Accuracy

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The form I completed yesterday filled out several attachments, including one for passive business loss. I did not believe I had incurred business loss, just that I was freelancing part-time.

Eternal Return

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When I slip through the seams I return to the same place.

When The Conversation Ends

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It was a strange mood, unfamiliar, not one of her usual “I'm busy wrestling with my personal demons” type of moods. She'd been steeped in it all day and I, like a shipwrecked victim reaching out for any piece of flotsam…

Neil Gaiman

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“Tell me a story,” he said, toying with his top hat, running his fingers along its brim.

The Lincoln Effect

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Ty speed-walked down the long ass tunnel that connected his “A” train to the NJ Transit bus, which would take him across the bridge, where he'd splurge for a cab to take him home.

My Uncle's Last Day in Hospice

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In and out of morphine dreams, he flies through the unfinished roof of Illinois sky. Below, matchbox-sized farm machines. A silo becomes his father's thermos, the silver-capped tower from which he stole sips at ten, his first secret. Back …

Sarah

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Rumpelstiltskin cried because you belong to me;

The Darwin Awards

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"People are stupid. They've always been stupid. But these days...." His voice trailed off. "Dumb and dumber, huh?" the Boss asked. Peter nodded.

The wooden man: 12 fragments for Easter

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The wooden man came to her in a cloud in a vision in a dream in a story. When he spoke, his tongue clacked against his teeth.——As soon as she woke up, she knew the wooden man was in her belly. She felt heavy with him, fatigued. All she wanted to eat was…

Sam in Fragments

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He injected her with a sedative to keep her still. He projected himself into her narcotic dream, a small bar with tango playing from a jukebox. They were dancing.

Christmas Email from an Aging Wicked Stepmother

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Your stepsisters send their love. All three are still on the wagon.

Barren

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It was the coward's way out, to commit suicide. And yet, one had to be brave to attempt it.

Exile

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Dandelions wither as I approach and the grass dies under my feet.

Sugar

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At first we thought we could get by using honey so we all stormed the SuperMart and cleaned the shelves out of Suzie Bee Honey. First the jars and then the squeeze bottles, but it wasn't the same. Then Mary Sue yelled out “How about brown sugar?”…

Aurora Borealis

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I recalled the one night stand I'd had with the girl one balmy summer night in Minneapolis. We lay on my bed in the moonlight, and I touched the nipples of her tiny breasts with the thumb and pinkie of one hand.

Just Stopped In For A Raspberry Slushie

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Certain disorders lend themselves to poetics.

Gipetto's Sin

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The boy grew frightened when his grainy wooden skin began to melt, every fiber humming and softening.