Most read stories

The Snowman on the Moon

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'Tis a cruel season. I have nothing and no means to order anything. Nobody to shop for and nobody to buy things for me. But the catalogues keep coming. And these catalogues don't bring out the best in me. The catalogues switch on what I call my want switc

Call Name Mary Magdalene

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His hands fumble over my curves like he’s petting his golden retriever. He wears in inexperience on his face like I wear my mascara.

The Cabin

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That evening I sat and watched the sunset. The color of the water changed from blue to black. The sky turned from pink to star-spangled ebony. There was no moon.

le Misérable

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I read the last line and close the book with a smack. “That ends that section,” I tell him. “Coming up is the chapter titled ‘The Ancient History of the Sewers of Paris.'

Zom Prom Mom

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We fucked in the backseat like the verse of a b-side, and that was enough to make him think my boys were half of his body.

Archer

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No one explained triumph would feel like this.

The Day the Internet Disappeared

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Myrna woke up with a start and sensed a strange silence in the air. She quickly flipped on an electric switch and when the lights came on she breathed a sigh of relief. Dawn was just breaking so she went back to bed and pulled the comforter over her head.

Mouth Manifesto

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I want you to kiss me like you’re listening to my tongue. I want you to hear the rhythm of my heart through my lips. Can you feel what I’m telling you? If you’re entering my borders, it doesn’t matter where - my mouth, my pussy, my ear... you’d better pay

I Hate Your Favorite Band

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He (after learning of my former occupation as a record store owner): So, what is your favorite band of all time?

The Faceless Girl Tells Stories

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spreading gilded pages with a tlickt

To Do Reminders

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Frisbee dog. Stealth the cat. Read more. Cut toenails. Less wine. Bind the ties. Avoid mirrors. Divide water.

someone tweeted f. scott fitzgerald reciting ode to a nightingale

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poor son of a bitch

Arcana Magi - c.9: Brie Williams, Sentinel of Byakko

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She saw mana from the pendant floating to her chest and its resonance pulsed with her heart, yet it felt empty. Unaware of what she had done, she reached out to it, thought of a name, and called for it.

Arcana Magi - c.17: Separation

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The Sentinels held up their weapons at the main door, preparing for a fight. Lori saw the look on the girl’s eyes, something she felt she should not see in them.

diversion

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x

Six Feet Over

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I’ve paid my dues in this dimension/ so show me where the rest of them are

Strobe Genre, Utah!

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Co-polar order spectrum; strobe genre (the disco light of the 70s illumining and eclipsing fiction-non-fiction-non in one "article"); UTAH! a jump from forehead-down to standing fast, a cheer, for genre studies.

The Bicycle

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Oh what fun they had riding that bike! What adventures! They went everywhere, in town and out.

Hanging

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Hanging was back and thriving - twice a week at half seven in the evening.

postcards from penelope

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fun fact: a doll's legs will twitch while being scalped but only for just a little bit

A Body of Water Invites All Things

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My resistance sublimates. There is a long instant of absolute relinquishment, in which I imagine droplets of water plinking into my lungs in a slow, musical fashion, like icicles melting in a perfect cave.

Why do I put up with this woman?

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She doesn't even know who wears the Adam's apple in this house.

Sloth

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(Insert poignant line here)

The Nutty Professor

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- Do you get out much, Professor? - How so? You mean to lectures? - No, I mean, you know, say, a walk in the park, or, take in a movie, or, maybe take a chick out to dinner, show her a good time, get a few drink

The Sitzer

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Fred, who by that point had already wanted to call Jimmy "Jim," talked a river. Jimmy, who had already called her Freddy, took a mojo bag from his back pants pocket and asked her to write something that he could put inside.

The Big Cross

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I hope you and asshole are having a good time.

Whorehouse Piano Players of the Mississippi Valley

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Imagine, if you will, the heartland of America–the Mississippi River Valley–as a woman sprawled out on a bed.

The Motel

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She dreamed of a beach.

23rd Psaltery

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The Lorelei is my sherris ; Ibibio shall not want. Head count maketh me to lie down in green patchwork: Head count leadeth me beside the still watercress. Head count restoreth my sounding: Head count leadeth me in the pathway of Rig Veda for his Namen…

Advice to Horror Girl Victims

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leave a trail of potential weapons dropped from your shaking hands. you must always make it easy for him to follow.