Most read stories

The new year begins

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martyred young women lie in hospital beds

Return

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We head home, skirting along the coast, humble before catapulting waves; the lighthouse near invisible if not for a single band of red.

Retrospective with Mum

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I've brought a stack of old photo albums to the home with me. It'll be nice to go through them with Mum, I'm thinking.When I arrive she's doing her usual routine, where she sits silent for a time then bursts unprompted into laughter, lungs rattling, shouting at some…

Skins of my past

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The past follows, battered, bruised, always behind

white lights

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the little white lights i see mean many different things to me

That Old-Time Religion

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The road to heaven is littered for miles with dead sinners, or more precisely, the sides of the roads are lined with crosses on which the sinners are nailed. It has always been so, since time started ticking for Civilized…

Fall From Grace

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My usual angel fell from the ceiling and onto the couch.

I'll Show You God

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...the room was filled with a brightness and a breeze, making you think you were up in the clouds.

The Time of His Death

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…if something happened to you so horrible that you no longer felt like living, would it have been better if you had died at birth? Okay, that's probably too early. No reason to act in haste. Maybe you should die when you're eighteen years old, just before…

Disparity

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These were strange realizations, and each built upon the one before until I was completely mystified and unsettled in my life.

Resident

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You will know the country for fences, for feces, for cows, or, You will know the country for the smell of hay and manure blowing over the hills to you.

And then we... Part 3

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Well, Bainz' dad didn't kill us for stealing his bomb because one of the drug addicts at my house was a cop. At least he said he was a cop, or knew a cop, or had something to do with the cops. I don't know for sure. I know he didn't look like a cop, at least he …

one for the runners

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it always takes too long to figure it out

War Garden

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From the home front....

Josh and the Elder

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A cruel reminder of his irrelevance to the world of law, a world he had probably ruled for over 40 years.

The Poetry Section

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In the poetry section, no one talks except to say, "excuse me," or, "wow," or, "amazing," with the second 'a' stretched out like a blacktop highway. But mostly they say, "excuse me." and that's only because someone dressed in a corduroy jacket is …

are you a life force?

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are you afraid sometimes, in the night, in the wind as it beats down your maelstrom thoughts?

Cider Spake, BÄÄ!

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no matter how many drunks I spoke to, no matter how many strangers I tried my new theories on, no matter how many of my, currently distant friends I out-witted and educated with my revelatory nuggets of wisdom, I still see no sign of impact on the evening

My Wife, the Registry of Motor Vehicles

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We’ve been married for 24.1667 years now and–well–my wife was starting to remind me of a public building. The Registry of Motor Vehicles, to be precise.

My Darling Dead Ones

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Do you remember?

La sfida

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You don't see the bruises ... you can't foresee the pain. It's intense, so deep and yet so volatile, in vain. He slapped my head once more while he uttered for the millionth time the same old words again: "You're a loser and you'll never win. I hate for you to be my…

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 29

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The funk of wet wool, stinky feet, reeking armpits, stale beer and fried food created a bohemian fetor.

At the back of the crowd

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They were all celebrating something, but she couldn’t see what it was.

A Hug from Rumpelbitchkin

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She shifts in her armchair, shadowed beneath the dark pitched roof, gently replaces her chipped white china teacup in its saucer. It's started again. It's how they go, their whisperings, egging younger children to climb the steps to her attic apartment, a

Wonderland Or Bust

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Alice sat on the edge, her legs dangling in the void...

observations on an autumn day

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macho bucks in velvet defy you driving down the lane

Closedness

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We are / packed in a speck of dust / adrift across the universe, / revolving an ember.

End of Wendell

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...though in reality it is a dirty white with brown splotches now appears to him as a fluorescent green garden snake.

The Calendar of Minutes

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He was prepared for this event.

confetti

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i’ve started writing these things down on blue-lined notebook paper or really anything i can get my tendonitis-ridden hands on.