Most read stories

After Bukowski

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The night she left she claimed she fucked Bukowski.

Better Boys, Early Girls

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... tomatoes swelling and turning pink...

DEAR MOTHERFUCKER

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I'm standing outside your window with our son's fingers in my fist.

My Other Mother is a Ferrari

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******WARNING: Long-ass story****** Click at your own risk.

Miss

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On Saturday mornings, by noon, the delivery car comes from Boston and unloads fresh bread and sandwiches, pork ribs and ground pork stuffed inside of breads and buns and banana leaves, bean shakes, and sticky rice desserts.

A Facebook Love Story

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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. …

Eleutheria

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She watched an inky cloud suck all the color / from the trees.

The Magical Thinking of Birds

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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?

Soviet

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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…

Often I think on who pulls the strings,

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In a plush leather chair, / high up a shiny skyscraper,

Foo Fighters

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Without a charge on the skin of the plane, we were struck by the bronze colored orb. Contact was brief, and it seemed as if the orb passed right through the aircraft. Despite the shielding of the equipment, most of it failed. We managed to land by "dead s

Nevertheless The Plan Was Not Implemented

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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

Simmer Time

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Usually the predawn light means bedtime for wicked guitar players, but not that bloody Sunday.

The Fault In Our Three Stars

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So there are these teenagers and they're all dying of cancer, or at least were dying of cancer, or might be dying of cancer, and then a couple of them fall in love and lose their virginity to each other, and these teens, they're all smart and charming and only a little…

Clover Grill: A Short Story

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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…

None Of It Grace

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I made him stop at an AM-PM. We bought a bag of barbecue chips and a yellow rose. Those days, we were testing our keels, sloshing against whatever rose most wicked. On the way to Beth Anne's apartment, we passed a man on the shoulder heaving a couch back

Anhedonia (excerpt)

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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.

Dinner at the Bigelows’

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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

The Hole Between Them

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Opposite the foothills, on the field's southern edge, was a stand of old eucalyptus trees, each one a gnarled sentry with bark like burnt skin peeling from its trunk.

The Last Words of a Genius

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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

An MFA Creative Writing Essay Question

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7. Using Cohen's Method of Structure craft a piece of fiction featuring unexpected conflict. (12 points)

A Prayer to the Porcelain God

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In her cleavage, Mark is able to discern a golden heart with the image of an arrow piercing it. A bow is super-imposed over both. “I see you are a devotee of Cupid.” Mark states. “I notice that you are a follower of Bacchus.” Diana winks.

Women Making Love to Monsters

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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…

Gang Bangs, and My First Time, Almost

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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

Cactus Subconscious

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The voice in the sand: "If it has soul you must funk it."

White

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“White,” he says. -- “Black,” I answer.

Dunes

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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.

If Everything is Inevitable

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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…

What Einstein didn't say

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First you must accept / the speed of light as constant. / If you can’t do that, stop reading.

Phenomenology as Snapshots

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The fluffed-up clouds, darkish in spots,/ are moving fast, opposite the wind/ where I stand and look. Equations// could describe the multiplicities