Most read stories

Harried or Employed

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Irony is written sarcasm. Sarcasm is spoken irony: the opposite of what is meant. Catholic irony in fiction seems deeper and more related to theme. Protestant irony starts with P as do other þing.

End of the Cloud

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Somewhere between the bleating of sheep And the laying of eggs Comes the licking of frosting And the eating of the cake We’re not young enough To know everything anymore And you may think there’s no rush But I know this There’s a limit t

The Suicider (Long Version)

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He woke up four hours later with the second worst headache of his life. He leaned against the car door, his face against the window, and pulled the handle to open the door, but it smacked against the back wall vibrating the glass against his cheek. He tri

When I Met the Mountain Man

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I am young. This is years before I start to hide my accent.

The Campus Socialists

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The Campus Socialists Paul and Mary Jo lived in an apartment at the top of a long, dark flight of stairs that were so high, I remember as if it were yesterday thinking, the night she pushed him down the stairs, he would surely be dead by the time h

The Writing Class

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I ask if anyone has a poem or a story they would like to read. Everybody's hand shoots up.

33 and a 1/3

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I've been in Tucson two days, and so far most of my conversations with my father have taken place while I crane my neck and squint into the sun. I scream up, he screams down. He needs to fix the leaky roof before the rainy season, he says.

The Cowboy of My Heart

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I. The cowboy of my heart rides high in the saddle. Behind him, the long tail of his speeding palomino, golden — like the hair to the girls I was later to want so desperately — stands straight out from his sweating, muscular haunches. It's time.…

The Wedding

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Anneliese inserted one of her crystal drops in Hymen's left ear and kept her left earring in. For a quarter, she bought a handful of cashews and plopped them on a red napkin.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 47

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—Mr. Martinelli, can you explain how you developed your painting technique?

COD: Extreme Hunger

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Mid-laugh, Mr. Adams caught himself. His eyes welled, flooded with guilt for chuckling at his son's funeral.

Canvas

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The artist with fork and trowel. The paint; soil, seed, seedling or plug.

Reduced

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There I was at the OPEN HOUSE. It was easy, three doors down. The sign on the lawn said, PRICE REDUCED. The real estate lady said, “Back again? Thinking of buying”? I laughed. There were several couples there. People have…

Museum Story Listening

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A sort of invocation of the open sky, in contradistinction to the dark of the Earth whence came the specimens, a figurative marriage of the literal darkness of exploration and the figurative light of knowledge.

An Apricot the Size of a Heart

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I dreamt, said the Donkey, of an apricot. An apricot the size of a heart. …

A Raisin in The Sun

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I was about sixteen or seventeen when James Miller had a stroke and died. He was a friend of my father's and a preacher-guy. The last time our church had been that full was at the barbecue the weekend after the church was built. Somehow, the structure went…

Quitting Smack

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I figured he knew what he was doing–he was the crazy one, after all, not me–so we took turns snorting lines of equal volume.

John Brigham's Dog

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Every day from my window I saw John Brigham's dog making its way across my field. The dog picked carefully through the shorn corn stubble taking the same route, I'm guessing, it took when the stalks made a shaded rustling forest. There is a narrow path…

One Story Above the Boy in an Old Car

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Near dusk today a car backfired on the street beneath my office window

Blind Jack

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The blind can be a little bit Angry now and then Trying to be independent They don’t want or need your help Usually. They’re a little like bees You have to learn to leave them alone But I remember one day when I Guided the fingers of Bli

When the Germans Were on the Roof of the World

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Flew a Messerschmitt. Drove a tank over people in Poland though not in Prague, and claimed he was never a guard at the death camps.

His First and Only: A Love Story for Halloween

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It was the woman, Mary Lou Compton, that he cared about. They would've been happily married by now if Bryce hadn't killed his Uncle Ned.

The Witch in the Canyon

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There's a witch in Laurel Canyon.She made Wes a promise.Her bungalow smelled like Parliaments. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive oil. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive, and a freshly opened pack of Red Vines. Wes could have curled up into a ball and fallen asleep on her…

Samurai Kitteh

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She did not know the passage of time, for she was just a bedraggled little kitty, but she stayed behind the lattice for many rising and settings of the Sun.

Nothing Much

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As a boy, he had little hope of ever becoming anything.

Upstream

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Rain pours down in a world transformedthrough thunder. The storm rages, night takes on a weight, and everyone hides, most from habit, some from fear. She stands there, soaked and beautiful, responding to the…

Nevermore

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One said 'Yes, I remember.' He was dark and tall and slender A masterful pretender who laid roses on the floor Appearing on the eve of morrow, so slow and full of sorrow With a costume he did borrow, borrowed from the poet's lore From the rare and rad

Five Ways To GET INSPIRED!

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2. Travel To Somewhere Fascinating, Even In Your Own Back Yard!

The First Fifth

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The first time that Beethoven’s Fifth was played, people ran into the streets.

Midwestern Charm

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He slathered the glue on my scalp and talked non-stop about Harlem. Electrodes or nodes, I never asked which, would measure something inside my head. I doubt they actually did though, measure anything. I've had the pleasure of having wires glued to my skull before and have…