Most read stories

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 30

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Anatoly Gringovitch took a swallow of beer, thoughtfully put the cap on his Ferrari da Varese custom fountain pen, and launched into his story:

Suede Denim

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Rogue sits bedside in Jello Biafra’s hospital room.

Melanie

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But now she was no longer the little girl.

The Silicon Chamber

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Why did he seek punishment, if he felt no guilt? Why this empty conscious, though he had done such evil?

Speck in the Thrall of Cosmic Forces

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Fear the air and fear the fire./ Fear the land and fear the water./ Creation is out to get you, speck,

benedictus

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

mermaid tale

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your words that came crashing over me/ so cold the clear shock was like salt water

Friday Briefings

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They could occupy the space// left by creatures larger and more/ evolved.

Bearded Lady

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Nights this husband returned home still hungry sometimes, even for her forearms against his own

Against the Wall

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happily fling Molotov cocktails// against ICE agents in armored vehicles/ and sing the pain of their burning deaths/ as triumph against asininity.

Otillie

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Shhh. I am here. Otillie Augustine, from Trieste, an Italian city to you, but when I lived it was part of Austria. Such things as who flies their flags over a city? Not so important after all, after all the losses and the victory speeches. These were not…

I Dated A 50 Foot Woman

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There was no need to drive. She could travel ten miles in ten minutes. She merely had to be careful not to step on any cars or trucks.

The Arms of the Sea

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The water lapped against the sides of the small boat, their rhythm all that I could think of. Sweltering rays beat down, frying my flesh, the insipid salty breeze that occasionally stirred my only relief from it. Gulls circled overhead, like white ravens,

driving

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gravel coughing up tires at 90 miles an hour and just getting under way

Wait

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I'm not dying. What is it called if you think you might have Hypochondria but you really don't? I'm worried that's what I have. Is it cold in here? Or is it me, dying?

Loose Ends

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He looked peaceful.

The Torture Never Stops

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Who is the torturer and who is the tortured?

Your Depression On Replay

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I offer you a peanut butter sandwich full of unconditional love and you say I'm being controlling, so I let you eat cake, eat cake.

SWING-SET

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Soon, out of the womb ‘down there' is nuance. It guides you, like a legality, like your own breathing, in and out of overtone, hardcore hodgepodges, those inklings near sacrosanct beyond breakfront negligees and neo-negligence leading the good life. Isn't it…

Taikutsuna, Abburido, Boring

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A Beatles haircut and loose Khaki painters overalls rendered the child sexless. He or she walked over to Hugh’s side and standing tiptoe peered into the casket. She, for Hugh had determined it was a girl, stroked the silk lining.

Hey Hey It's Okay

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Over by the swimming pool singing - Hey hey it’s okay - A line from a song he heard - On the stereo when we were driving in the car - On the way to sign the papers to get - His grandfather released from the hospital

Unkilled Jeff

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

Assiduity Eight

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no snippet tasting

Exceeded

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I am exceeded / by a leaf

ANGER

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You gave me everything, delivered with a hungry mouth. Tease.All taken away, erasedby a few words.Lips that poured forth and lips that took insharp, electric pleasures.Now withdrawn, thin, petulant.Not satisfied,you crushed my sanctuary.with so…

walk off the animal

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I don’t know how some can do it. Can they just walk off the animal in the yard or something, and forget about love altogether? Some have that built-in coldness of the soul, I guess. I don’t get it. The blood does not seem to shake their hearts. Are th

Sagacious Abridgment

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A cloudy autumn morning greeted Sean as he stepped from the trolley at Grand Central Station. On his way to the tracks he purchased a copy of The New York Times dated October 24, 1934.

Story by Committee

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The past has no flavor.

Man and Dirt

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Wherever you decide to grow Please remember to ask the dirt ‘Am I still dust’

Waiting for Fireworks

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I take her hand. More grey dust rolls off the arms, over the railing, into the wind. It’s embarrassing and I let go. I think she told me to throw them away months ago. I rub her bare thigh. She laughs real soft like. The corner of her lip curls up.