95755
|
I don’t see the problem. In the country I come from, language is the best part of the game.
|
957127
|
If you find a lone, sad honeybee, buy a Habitrail cage and make it your new pet.
|
95700
|
It was so dark below, there was only flashlights weaving about and headlights pointing in one direction.
|
95742
|
"I like to see your juicy cheeks wiggle."
|
95622
|
Last night I met a man from the same littleshithole townthat you are fromand I kissed him in the mouth to find out if he tasted like coallike you do.While he slept, I tried to pinpoint on a map I drew on his back exactly how far apart you might have been:how many years…
|
95621
|
Tucker walked the long and lonely stretch of highway in front of him. The loneliness didn't matter; he had his own way of handling that feeling. The walking, however, was wearing away at his mind. How…
|
95600
|
"Of course I know," Aidan rocked him gently in his arms. "I know, and I don't care. You need help carrying that stuff around, cause it really sucks to carry it around alone. I know, I've watched you. But baby, we're in this together now."
|
95600
|
Made sense then, should have written it down - But I fell back to sleep instead
|
95600
|
About three dozen people, the doctor told him, dwelt in the small village until there had been a dry spell—a drought the likes of which no one in the region had ever seen before. Theories abounded as to the cause of the drought as theories do: a curse by
|
95633
|
No preview available due to the brevity of the piece. In fact, this comment itself is longer than the piece.
|
95600
|
He and Nick got a long very well, and would speak about things for hours until the morning came; and Betsy would supply them with food and coffee, and clever sayings all the while Johnny watched it all over. Tonight though, they had watched La Rafle, and
|
95633
|
I thought
we ended things a long time ago
|
95610
|
A stroll along the golf course rim reveals Polo-logoed litter. Could this be what they mean by white trash?
|
95630
|
There was something about the boy that made me uneasy. Maybe it was the reverse widow's peak on his forehead or the way he wiped away his snot with the back of his hand. It could have been his red flannel shirt that reminded me of the hillbillies from the mountain…
|
95660
|
and still every time I walked up there - so it can't be the cycling - I was nervous I would do it wrong
|
95655
|
Years later Polyphemus still remembers the wine-soaked taste of Odysseus’s men. The barley and garlic-flavored Greeks. Their flesh a fibrous, blood-hued hummus. Their crunched bones releasing sweet marrow.
|
95675
|
Everything conspires to kill you:
|
95586
|
That is a six-word story. Notice that the meaning does not change with the word count. Syllabic count: pentameter (ten). Keep these commas.
|
95500
|
Breasts were developed after World War II, the result of improved nutrition and the additional muscle mass that “Rosie the Riveter”-types acquired through manual labor in jobs that males abandoned to join the war effort.
|
955108
|
When you need a vacation...from everything.
|
9551310
|
I realize that to say, "I do not believe in God" is footsteps away from "I do not rely on God" and "God left me."
|
95500
|
|
95554
|
Eroica sprawled among/
the horns and violins
|
95511
|
Lover’s leap to a bank of smooth shale/
Where I sat drinking beer that past summer/watching a group of hard shell Baptists/line up to be saved in it’s muddy waters
|
95510
|
The carnival passed through this hotel one time only, its boarded guests pretending to ignore the smell of outdoor whore in their bedding.
|
95511
|
My first time all started with the girl on the bench. She had those perfect eyes, you know the ones, where you see them and you just can't help wanting to take everything she has on her. Those kind of eyes. And I saw them first. I was the first one there that morning at the…
|
95540
|
I've been a fan of hagiography—the lives of the saints—since first grade when Claude Dunham and I were asked to represent St. Stephen and St. Sebastian, two martyrs of the early church, in a tableau vivant of bored boys.
|
95564
|
It's not stories the quiet lack, but inclination...
|
95500
|
His senses were heightened. The scratching on the table with his finger nails, intense nervousness, the noise magnified every second, the ball point pen was piercing into his sweaty palm.
|
955148
|
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