Most read stories

The Martyr

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She sees her mother the Sunday after Zoe discovered her seven-week-old creation, like a chewed gingerbread man with red icing, in the toilet bowl beneath her.

Worst. Party. Ever.

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"The food tastes kind of...off."

Of the Terrible Angels and Their Fleshy Conduits

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Other pathways are more satisfactory. They are more closely attuned to music of the other world. Even so, the heat eventually burns them up.

The Last Game

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My kid chased the umpire back to his crappy Honda Civic and flipped it over–at the age of 10! That's what steroids can do for you.

Up Front

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He almost died, but hasn’t been this much alive ever.

the marriage of heaven and hell & their cat

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It is hard

Wellington Crescent/Rubber Soul/50/50

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They are kind of cool though I’ll admit…pretty types with perfect angles and poise and judicial daddies and shade tree homes, holding their books preciously against their tight bodies as if they’re into academics or something.

How to Lose Control of Your Pencil

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Real hands

Where There Be Monsters

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“C'mon Billy, don't be s-s-s-s-scared.' said the voice coming from under the bed. Billy looked over the side and saw a pale white, bony right hand with it's forefinger beckoning him protruding out from below. The nails were yellowed and cracked. And long. Very, very…

Summer, finito

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one season slips into another

SHOPPERS MAKE ME NAUSEOUS

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A meaningful conversation Subdued the huge Toys “R” Us question mark Standing sun-bleached and sprinkler-dirtied In our flowerbed On the patio Explode your fanny pack, A clinking most dangerous The Mysterious: Its …

Coalheart

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He is sleek with hearts and I see a different name etched onto each one.

An Interview With Pere Ubu

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Performed October 21-22, Gallery 263, Cambridge, Mass. Kathy-Ann Hart, the Hostess; Ryan Wenke, Ubu; Tyler Catanella, Alfred Jarry; the author--technician.

Drunk and Driving the Family Home

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I felt like-

The Glass Bowl

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I caught a fragment of a charged argument as I passed them. The young man said, “Well, I am talking about love.” And the young woman with equal volume checkmated with, “Well, I am talking about money.” Though their lives were none of my business, this exc

Preacher Alphonse Jicklo

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Samson was also somewhat in hopes that his son Jason would become engaged in this minor capitalist enterprise and 'turned around' in his life.

Finite

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This was not a good sign, comforting gestures from strangers were bad omens.

Tierra del Fuego

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my time there was not one afternoon not / one river not one tunnel not one falling

leyh (they say)

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and then he began to sing, along with the ghostly villagers

Fixing the RED Wagon

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I had put the child's wagon, which had been red once, back together again. “Honey”, I said, “I found out the garbagemen will pick up concrete this month.” So, I put…

Hive mentality

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My anger over yesterday's argument with you slipped from memory when I felt the first of the two hundred bee stings, each tiny jab another burst of brilliant pain, and each little attack another reminder to watch where I'm walking.

Stealing From A Corpse

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He kept one scarf. It was the scarf that she would tie around his eyes to play with him, long, until he was in his teens. A silly game that made her happy and he squirmed with delight until he got too old. She did not want him to see her, only to know if

Away From the River

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Tiny poem

In The Place Between

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We played and had joy. As the seasons changed in that peripheral world, we did not feel it. We only saw the snow a bit, only felt the wind a bit, we were not really in it. We still kept ourselves busy. There was something that I did begin to notice. I cou

Shot Story

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The earmuffs, a fine pale green, are tilted slightly to the left, threatening to quash her in their magnitude. Her eyes, sharp sparkling blue, focus for a flash, looking for applause or assurance, or perhaps just approval. Safe, behind…

Guess I'm Finally Over You - song

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All this broken glass in the road Tells the longest story l have ever told Of how you lost your life and I my love And how you still go wandering above I don't know how I can return To the planet where we used to thrive Along this broken

EyeSeaEwe

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I C U: …

Five Million Yen: Chapter 66

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Jack Krackenthorpe, Director-General of MI-5, sat alone drinking tea in Lee Ho Fook, a third-rate Chinese restaurant in Soho a mile from his Curzon Street office.

Five

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"It all began with a painting," I said. "Mostly blue. Acrylic. Naturalistic in a modern sense. She was stylized but recognizable, and her breasts were exposed. Everyone could see her disordered skirt. The painter was a fan of Herrick.

People Watching and Missed Opportunities at the Bus Depot

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It's not actually about blow jobs, sex, or coitus of any kind. You probably won't like it.