Most read stories

Godot, Go Wait Yourself!

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a bone-crusher handshake

Music Box

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Katie loved butterflies. Katie loved daisies. Mainly, Katie loved presents.

I Wrote a Book

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About halfway through reading some book that was supposed to be some really deep shit, I decided to write my own book instead.

The Birds (2)

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The birds were stacked up in the branches of a pine tree behind the feeder. Several were sitting on the fence. “They’re massing,” she said.

Subway Imitator

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The imitator’s segue to his sad life story was, “But what isn’t funny…”

The Pocahontas Forgiveness Goes Viral

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You generated coal light from your gait as easily as the new sun crawls through a sleepy forest, without worry over hot spillage, or who might be horribly blinded or grossly revealed or given visions in that rare moment of wet earth and…

Four Days before Thanksgiving, Boston to Colorado

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The daughter's trip, a travail, cross country; the painkillers were not the finisher mom needed—and the white sheets of the institution were too thin to provide her any comfort as she dreamt of swimming; a backstroke suspended over a waterless pool.Her father…

Dancing Shoes

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Though she is looking at me, I sense she is seeing someone else. Somewhere else. Maybe a long time ago. Her hair looks like cotton and a silk scarf is draped elegantly across her frail shoulders. Plum lipstick outlines lips almost vanished with age.

Crisis Junkie

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  A lot of people are like this--they thrive on On conflict   My bartender is that way-she likes the Confrontation She wants to fight and argue and haggle And I never related to this In anyone Well, people are scared, or pretend to be Scared at the bar. Some…

Confetti Bomb

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For one glittering moment

Finger Weaving A Voyageur Sash

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Night's air awhirl, the sky shoots fireflies. Sometimes, she bleeds black arrows in her dreams.

Fish

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A woman with spirit appeals to men who fish because she is still alive.

Arcana Magi Pure - c.1

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Mayumi did not feel any pain, but it did frighten her. She slid her hand over her shoulder length hair and watched the mist cascade down her back.

The Anniversary

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.... The sun tears through the windshield as if it were an six-foot wide magnifying glass and for a moment it feels to them both as if they are in a manipulated universe of fire and ice, storm and heaven, as it does when the skies crack and spread open a

Sorbet in the Luminous Capsule

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Even in the brief flickers where your eyes and nose are visible you look gelatinous. Like a forgotten traveler suctioned to the side of an immersion tank. Am I sick because this bizarre spectacle is irresistible to me?

The Gratitude of Bones

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During war, as in any terrible time of upheaval, burials are merely quick words and a scattering of dirt, if the dead are lucky.

No, You Don’t Know What I am Thinking

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Scratch his eyes out, flashed through Edgar's head, scratch his eyes out.

The Butterfly Effect

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Now it turns out, the story doesn’t begin with the butterfly lady, herself, but with her brother.

The Oaten Hands

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His hands were like that when he was born. No one really understood why. Neither of his parents had any body parts made of oats. Neither of them had even eaten any oats the morning the conception took place. But sure enough, when Edwin MacGrain was born o

Playing with Fire

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Six sentences

Hazel - alt.punk excerpt

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This is why people go into work one day with a shotgun. This is why people turn to the masses and drink Kool-Aid. This is one of the reasons behind Chuck Palahnuik’s conceptualization of Project Mayhem.

Confetti

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We go in gently at first, skimming over the first few swells and dropping speed, but then we pitch hard, tail over. The windshield holds. I think of Lily. I think of the baby. And I see my life.

Retire! Dance! Die! But First, Pass the Chocolate. Boomers According to Google.

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Born in 1954, I identify as a Baby Boomer. But what does that mean, really? Who exactly are we Boomers? And how does the world see us? I decided to perform a quick Google Search and find out. I typed in the phrase “Boomers Are…” Here's…

Flash Fiction With Instructions

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The protagonist’s story goes like this: 1.) You are young. You’ll get over it.

Falcon Street

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Marcy is two years older and got her period the summer before me. She thinks she’s a professor of everything, but she’s my best friend so I don’t say she’s being stupid or that her tangerine lipstick is smeared across her front teeth.

Boys of Summer in Yonkers (Memoir Excerpt # 2)

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I am coming to understand how many memories of my father involve him, driving

The Point Of It All

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He understood that people no longer read or thought deeply about things but continued to write anyway. He understood that Einstein's theory of relativity was proved correct during the world's longest eclipse of May 29, 1919 when photos of the Hyades star cluster…

Solzhenitsyn Jukebox

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A retired feminist literary agent named Jackie and her boyfriend, Jock, were on board. Jock was kind as one might expect of a man traveling with a feminist, and Jackie was happy yet stern. She mentored me one day over lunch.

As Luck Would Have It

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For fifteen years Wendy waited for Harry to leave his wife. From time to time, there’d been ultimatums, break-ups too, but they never stuck. Now Wendy’s luck was about to change. It was Tuesday, Wendy and Harry’s standing night to be together. His wif

Samosely

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If you’re not dead yet, you’ll die of something.