Most read stories

Can't We All Be Writers?

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Why not just self-publish on Fictionaut and be read by thousands of my peers? Why not release my cherished work directly to my thousands of Facebook or Twitter or blog friends? Can the budding writer that I am realistically expect a larger audience?

Sorry

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...society has tampered with its denotation so much that it is almost incomprehensible without context.

In the Tent of Princess Citronella

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While sipping Earl Grey tea in the tent of Princess Citronella, I could hear the nightime burping of several camels outside trying to settle down. A slight breeze entered in through an opened flap and gently vibrated a piece of paper the Princess was handing me. A dog…

Shoot

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Dear Brandon Lee: I know that you're dead and can't respond to letters, but I've always felt a connection to you.

Trick or Treat

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A Halloween drabble. Happy Halloween to all!

Weed Fire

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Wind was a sorry excuse for force

Ballad

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Hi de ho, and hey, hey, hey; The farmer's daughter is made of hay. I went to touch her but she blew away, And noo ma hert is nae langer gay. Hi de hoo, and how do you do? The farmer's wife has a cold up her flue, And takes me away…

Love Verse

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A gentle man, and a fierce woman, charmed one another in a shaded gazebo.

9/11 Memories

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She was just a small dog with a big heart.

Freedom

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the darkness held frieghtened by the surveillance of a distant white shimmer.

It's really not the same

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It wasn't the same as taking a course with Ginsberg. Everyone knew Ginsberg. Nick Cave, too, everyone knew him. Waiting lists were full months in advance for those classes, everyone sent in resumes and writing samples, praying, begging to be included. Lish was just an…

Passing by Pallanteum

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Passing by PallanteumOr ‘Dido's Song' Form: Double Sestina, iambic pentameter, rhymed Who knows of hell, knows less of paradise? I've known them both, when vanquished in your eyes, When draws the kelp where lost men had their graves Below…

Snoopy Calling

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The little girl picked up the toy phone. "Who is this please?" she said, mimicking what she'd heard her mother say many times before. "Snoopy," came the voice.

Back East

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Could even drift off to New Orleans for a slow sip of a hurricane

BLUE

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A subway train rumbled through the underground and she actually felt it slither under her feet. Her gaze lingered for a moment on the desiccated leaves and the small rectangle of blue cardboard the blustery wind had wedged between the gargoyle's talons.

Character & Fitness

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Character & Fitness, the opening chapter to my novel, "Death of the Dying City."

Endless

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Endless. I find this story.Beginning. To walk.Repeating. Repeating.The Memory. Of snow.Amsterdam. Rivers narrow.Hearts. Divide.Hands. Emboldened.Patronizing. Unpatriotic.Semblance. House held open.Forging. The ties…

My Mistress

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the ex now alien

Goodbye Uncle Jack

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He fought off the U-boat packs in the Atlantic — one hand on the tiller, one on the torpedo launch button.

Bog Crossing

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Written within five minutes, being a parody of the artless vacuity of observational 'poetry'(By Tedward Weeney and Seamus Spews) The large wind in the treetop tells the blackbird its own voice. The yellow grainyard resounds to the clodding of my farmer's…

20,000 Years of The Apartment For The Dead

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He saw places that he hadn't thought existed. He found his analog from 17,000 years ago praying inside of a white pyramid in Kathmandu, and saw how the fireballs being catapulted through the air outside were stopped in midair by a beam coming from the top

The Metaphysics of Cake

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Can we ever truly know reality? I don’t think so. But fly in comfort my friend. Lean back and enjoy the thrust of those engines.

Nail polish

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Those in the house don’t notice the sweaty woman on their lawn any more than they notice the Ruger LCP pistol she holds limply in her right hand.

Magnetic Soup Wagon

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We may sniff a gush of something in the rush of heat round a petrol bomb. Or reap a gift from the cracked head of a hero.

Musica

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A sizzling as skin and sinew melt, fall away. "Scream if you need to scream, child." And I scream, and her song gains strength. The warmth of her around me. It is time.

Vanishing Vapors with Mister Van Gogh

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These clouds are what I havewith me. Their language is minebut it is drying today aswe speak. I catch the darkeningsparks, but that's not to beyour concern. I am sure youshall go on. What I wantis to deliver your song. Idoubt it is for anybody else.Clouds are good at…

Napomo 17: April 1-6

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April spit its greeting, toe to head.

How the 60's Ended

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The Beatles on TV their last show together as a group and we all knew it smoking dope sitting around in large groups in living rooms across the universe they sang Let It Be and The Long and Winding Road knowing a man

Walking To Gibraltar, Chapter 15: In Which The Damage Is Contained

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He stood sopping in front of the mirror, dripping onto the limp puddle of clothing on the floor. He needed a haircut. He needed a shave. He needed to get rid of the two-fucking-inch white hair inside the helix of his right ear. He plucked it—and all the h

Complex

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He sees the dogs through the window, his babies, sleeping on opposite ends of the couch. His girl, lying supine, hind legs spread, grotesquely, almost comically, as far as they can without being flush with the cushion. His boy, Cosmo, face down, the power…