2788 12 9
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I'm standing outside your window with our son's fingers in my fist.
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2788 24 16
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7. Using Cohen's Method of Structure craft a piece of fiction featuring unexpected conflict. (12 points)
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2788 26 3
|
Usually the predawn light means bedtime for wicked guitar players, but not that bloody Sunday.
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2786 16 9
|
Christine comes back from the future looking tired, which is the opposite of what I expected. For some reason, I imagined the future as being invigorating. But she walks into the apartment and abandons her suitcase by the front door, collapses into a heap on the couch next…
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2785 25 14
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... tomatoes swelling and turning pink...
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2785 7 5
|
Thomas Friedman was right when he said, “Much of this biodiversity in Indonesia is now under threat.”
It had been this way since gasoline became currency; I remember bartering with The Governance for the newest edition of The Guinness Book of
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2785 4 1
|
This is a story about Jim and Robin. They are strangers. Or at least they were. They are at the same party, but standing on opposite sides of the room. Robin is standing near the door thinking, “I wish there was someone here to talk to,” when she sees Jim. …
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2784 4 3
|
First you must accept /
the speed of light as constant. /
If you can’t do that, stop reading.
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2784 4 0
|
Mrs. Bigelow loaned Tessa a black tulle maid’s uniform and helped her pin it in at the sides. She tied on Tessa the stiff white apron. Slippery, pale, opaque stockings of real silk oozed through the girl’s fingers, secured by a heavy satin garter belt
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2783 1 2
|
I started dating the Minotaur because of Colleen; at the time she was going with a friend of his. The whole thing was a surprise to me because I'd never been attracted to Greek men. This is how it happened. Colleen's new guy, Ian, was known by many…
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2782 11 8
|
The voice in the sand: "If it has soul you must funk it."
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2782 20 13
|
Her eyes grew wide, moist, catching the low light, holding onto it as if an imprisoned lover. "So you come home." I smiled. Was she playing a game?
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2781 6 6
|
My grandfather rode with the Czar’s army. He was abducted from a village in Austria, trained to pillage and drink, plunder and rape, and ride the best horses that could be had. They were given the best vodka and the sharpest swords. They were all just boy
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2781 9 6
|
Frank says if I eat the whole bowl of live crickets he’ll give me five dollars and his grandfather’s silver bullet from the war.
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2780 10 8
|
Fritz Lang. Even before I ever met the miserable son of a bitch, with his monocle and superior airs, I hated him. In person, he was an insufferable asshole.
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2780 1 1
|
The neatly-gentrified Mtsensk District plaster buckled in all the right grey-painted places. The aged, yellowing windows rose and fell in fashionable decay. It was a well-upholstered citizen's slum, drawn to exacting state specifications. Local housing authorities…
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2778 30 19
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That spring the war still moved north but we did not go to it any longer.
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2778 2 2
|
They sway from his hips, the torn knapsack, and the corners of the pushcart
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2776 3 2
|
Things have happened.
It’s a given. What, are you crazy? Of course things have happened. It’s the world, for Christ’s sake. Things are happening. I am consistently missing most, if not all, of them.
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2775 13 5
|
I'm somewhere on I-10 in Mississippi, barreling westbound at 80 miles an hour through a rainstorm on a late Wednesday afternoon. The last road sign I remember was for Beauvoir, some Confederate general's…
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2773 2 1
|
The crowd gathered around the dying man's bed, waiting for his last words.
He was a genius. The most prolific writer and philosopher to ever live. He wiped his ass with the words of Shakespeare. The thoughts of Plato, Socrates, Descartes, and Nietzsche w
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2772 25 21
|
I found the knife in a fishing box in the closet. The box was made out of varnished wood. My father’s father had made it.
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2771 27 16
|
“White,” he says. -- “Black,” I answer.
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2771 2 1
|
But not once did we mention heaven. The next day we bought another one.
|
2770 1 0
|
But she knew what she would find. She knew it all the moment she felt the sticky fingerprints behind the slat of her old oak slay bed. The fingerprints that would only be left from a person grabbing it from behind their head. The fingerprints that she
|
2770 5 5
|
I made this robot. Everyone was making them. Mine was a vacuum cleaner with a rubber jack-o-lantern mask taped to the handle. His name was Z-Bot2131F, but I just called him Brady, after my dead brother. Brady, my brother, had come out cold, and…
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2769 2 1
|
Poem: Zohra El Fassia by Erez Bitton
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2769 6 3
|
Glen always had to be the first to fuck his sister, especially before that big galoot from down the street, whom Cheryl really liked to fuck, otherwise Glen would get violent. She had just started having her periods then, I remember. We were all there one
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2768 26 23
|
I counted telephone poles and the seconds between them. The old highway cut straight through the sand and it seemed the road would never end. No curves. No hills. Just poles.
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2768 19 12
|
I went out through another cold still morning erasing my steps behind me not because I did not want to be followed but because I did not want to find my way back again.
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