1420 4 2
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There’s a problem with falling for a mostly straight girl. And by mostly straight, I mean, when you and I met at the Christmas cocktail dress-up party a year ago, you in red spandex with white fur trim and me in my straight-from-work black slacks and grey
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14201710
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“What are you doing, Maestro?"
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142041
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Dear England,
Please send me a redheaded boy, fire-red, please. We have one girl aflame but the others are stone yellow or dark as the sea. The flames are so easy to spot from afar.
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1420135
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It was already dead and was hanging from her ceiling.
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14201710
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Can you write a 250-word story without using the letter "e"?
Ruth's back is curving forwards, folding, softly caving into tomorrow.
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142000
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More and more, incoherent masses of letters scroll through my mind. Ideas struggle to form. Flashes of images flit rapidly in front of my mind’s eye. There are fish, mountains, presents, forests, mirrors - a menagerie of meaningless symbols march pas
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142011
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I. The girl within the sleeping woman dreams her dream of ending. To her comes the cowgirl with no kids: she's riding high atop her turquoise horse, steady by its braided mane. Silver pistols holstered. The girl in the woman in the dream she's dreaming…
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14191210
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I'm dying but that's not to say what you think it says. I've crossed the river of myself many, many times before and wandered to the shore, broken and drenched and full of the fever of dreams. Each time was a kind of ritual drying of my newly born wings, to…
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141962
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She was in love with a boy whose eyes were so brown that she sat stopped in the restaurant at the anniversary dinner with the spoon in her slow chocolate fondant. Out of the corner of her eye, around the back of her head, under the table knees knocking
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1419198
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Evening was drawing nigh and Mosby's horse had tired from the daylong ride.
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14191712
|
It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress.
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141920
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the unhealthiness of obsession and control until the lines burn bright
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1419127
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Bloop. Velvet's paws hit the carpet. The new man of the house is on the prowl for food, a walk. Breakfast was Rice-A-Roni; for lunch I'm serving Ring Dings. Perhaps he'd like a bite?
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141901
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over taking the sky before near blindness, a clipping occurs
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141942
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The stern tone of the chairwoman made him miss his mother, the snap of her accusations, the sting of her belt on the backs of his legs.
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141986
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We were just as bourgeois as Bloomingdale’s, one generation past canned ravioli dinners with cheap white bread.
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14191611
|
Is there a recipe for / lasting happiness?
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14192118
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When I died, she said, she was going to have me cremated and put my ashes in the cats’ litter box.
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141921
|
If you know how, all bodies can be read like books, like poems, like scraps of song
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141832
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Rockin' Joe Heath stumbled into the stairwell in nothing but a black Zildjian t-shirt, shushing himself, trying to see right, pounding head. He recalled the old lily pattern of the wallpaper and something about the tattered edges…
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141844
|
People were just doing it.
Doing it everywhere. On lawn chairs and stray patio cushions and watching. Watching every one do it.
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141884
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“I don’t know what’s going on there,” Hank, who hated his name and wanted a more Biblical name because those names (Jeremiah! Matthew! David!)—although common—sound ominous, said as he pointed up to the top of the apartment building that housed the whores
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1418105
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Rounding a corner, Clarissa wiped out and hit the floor chin-first. She wailed and the dildos skittered away under a display.
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1418118
|
“Sometimes when I feel the urge to create, I don’t know whether to grab my paints, my camera, my guitar or my pen.”
“You could have sex,” her friend, sitting in the desk next to hers, joked.
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14181110
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In San Francisco, there rides at night a phantom streetcar whose driver is none other than Walt Whitman . . .
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141882
|
It would wander the hallways after the 3:45 bell, after the last class, after the students had all disappeared with the homework they'd never finish, the papers they'd forget to write, after Nate the janitor pushed his broom through the endless doorways,
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141833
|
In the spring, my father would dress for class in a bear costume and chase students around campus.
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141811
|
Graeme King was disturbed. He sat at his desk feeling his bloodshot eyes rolling backwards, impatient, leaden in their sockets. Could he believe what he had just seen? Surely not. Surely the late nights spent absorbing the relentless pulse of his computer screen…
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141800
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Ai noticed the red bead at the base of Tori’s neck embedded within the feather. It had the look of a ruby. She slid her hand over the bead and a tingling sensation climbed up her arm.
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141852
|
When she awoke in her yard, she poured what was left of the rum into the dead grass. The man beside her lay with fingers curled, a claw she’d found wedged up her skirt when she woke. Tom, she said, his name nonsense, tongues. Might as well have been any
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