Most recent stories

Dead End

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She'd still rest her fingers on your back, and her smile still lit the lantern of your soul.

Shimmer

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She grinned when he steadied himself against the sofa. “Boy, I know you.”

Love Stories

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I've got an appointment to see my shrink next Wednesday. She's pretty sharp. Not bad looking, either.

Clockwhipped

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I now felt prepared to waltz under a K bullet that hits a stucco brick above the tropical hibiscus.

Lying to the Boss

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I was having festive sex flashbacks and wasn't thinking sharply.

Pretend Friend

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no rule says an imaginary friend has to be a good one

Prison

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I am trapped.

The Shopkeeper

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His eyes are closed yet restless, as if too many thoughts loop beneath the lids.

Above Love

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Love is easy. Lazy. Fickle.

The Ungrateful Dead and the Human Resource Recovery and Refineries Act

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Incidents intensified. The Dead appeared in twos and threes at shopping mall and Wal-Mart parking lots.

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

Past Brutalities

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Seven micros

Let the Others Drool

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They are all sleeping, but I know better. I will keep watch and if he comes tonight I will be alert and ready. When he arrives he'll see the slack mouths, the graceless sprawls, hear the grunts, snorts and snores of the other women and then he'll sense me. My eyes will…

Archer

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No one explained triumph would feel like this.

bramble

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i don't know

October is the month when your dog dies

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The Good Sounds of Squeamish Language

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Accuracy is a prediction

Darcy Eastland

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To him the younger women, contemporaries of the bride, all sounded as if they were breathing helium.

Smoke and Stars

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as distant lights all must shiver before joining in a Milky Way river

Stationcity Drums

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Deep in Stationcity they began to drum.

WRECKED

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There

Key Cutting

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City cars packed with eyes

Lines with Billie Holiday

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It is almost as if there isn’t a wedge of wood between us – I can feel him inches away from me. I can’t control the sigh or the tears that escape my body.

Consequently, I Rejoice

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The infinite terrifies.

Laughing, Crying

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It was Brad, for short; or so he would say. But really his name was Bradford, and he was a writer. He had almost always lived in New York. He was only half-white. His mother had run away with a black man in the sixties. Her father had told her to never come back to…

TBT

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Back then we used to dance slowly to Sam Cooke's “You Send Me” on your parquet floors, whispering about planting our vegetable garden, planning to seed the lawn with centipede grass, promising to count all the red cars that came down the street.

Leaky Guts

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One day, Dasha confessed to Igor that she had an incurable illness: Purple emptiness.

What's Cool about Getting Old

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My skin tells a story of pain and labor. It’s better than a tattoo and cheaper.

H. Abstract

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“Dear, baby, what do you fear?” Or maybe it was, “Now here are the keys to the lock.”

Funeral

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After the funeral there was a luncheon in the church basement.