Most recent stories

A Bar at the Folies-Bergere. Manet

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The mystery is in the barmaid's impersonal stare It's all there. Recognizable the bottles of Bass Ale and Crème de Menthe. Glazed oranges piled in a bowl Two roses in a small clear glass of water A wide gold bracelet on her arm, halfway up from

Shovels and Honeysuckles

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When she would leave my pillows still smelled like her. I would just inhale her for hours afterwards, sex and honeysuckles.

A Life of My Own - 4

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"Middle class workers and working class poor and the unemployed will soon be forming a revolutionary movement to break this stranglehold of corrupt elites."

The Suicidal Juggler

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The man wore a bowler hat and stood on an open patch of grass, with a pyramid-shaped stack of baseballs at his feet.

Mort

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Mort’s hand-mind suffered electrifying-absence-emptiness; no wife.

Snack

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Kerryn saved us from ourselves really. Would you be reading this had she eaten it?

A Ship of Bones

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Make paddles of his hands Use his skull to bail Rig his thigh bones for a mast And his skin to make a sail

Wire

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“We know you’re in there, motherfucker. Step out, slowly, and we might keep you fit for an open casket funeral."

Twister

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The rain pelted down, it got dark, and they couldn't see a thing. The wind roared like a thousand locomotives.

Our Time as Men

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Rhonda looks guilty as it is, don’t you think? That hair! And the unhappiness smeared across her face like war paint after a war.

Moulin de la Galette. Renoir

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Light seen as sunlight through a Japanese shade Red through many of their mouths, and often their hair but also spots of a duller red on the back of this gentleman's coat and the back of his head The woman stares at him without smiling from thre

Perfect Lady

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I want to write a story about a woman who lies to men about her height.

Life of the Writer

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I am a romantic writer, true. But what comes after the romance is what fascinates me. A lover dying is the most beautiful scene I want to write. The most beautiful scene I have yet to write.

The Replica City

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From somewhere beneath the train, steam rose, which was—of course—puzzling as the train was powered by electricity. The steam condensed on the windows of the cars, making tears streak across the surface. Perhaps that was why the woman’s cheeks were shinin

Fool of Me

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This no man's island I'm perched high above isn't always so beautiful to the casual beholder of newly printed maps. Oh don't go and get your clouds all wrong. Puffed or thin, everything I say I believe in is a real feeling, until the music dies…

Seascape

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1. Walking here with you on these narrow strands of clean air & imagination

things to know about the people parked along the road that runs through Humboldt Park: part 1

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It was as if every wrong foisted upon his ancestors stirred up a war in him and he was charged with intending the canon at the living.

song of the dog: Degas

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With her head thrown back and mouth open she howls into the dark green night, letting her gloved hands droop like the front paws of a dog. A large orange corsage attached to the bosom of her gown. Around her thick neck, a ribbon of black velvet. Her p

The Paranoia Experiment

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I know this is going to sound crazy, possibly because it is crazy, but still, please hear me out. I'm a relatively sane person. Sane as any of you, or I was. Just, what I'm saying is that anything that happened to me could happen to you, and you might do the same things I…

In an Irish pub with a lot of oiled wood

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“I love women. They’re like goddesses.”

DMV

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When you bring information, it does not arrive.

The Kennedys

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Noah's diagnosis takes several years. A doctor from North Carolina reading his case dubs the condition Bootlegger’s Syndrome.

Putting the Damage On

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My Thursday head belonged to a former Miss Brazil named Rita.

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.2 - c.1

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No matter the guidance and support she received from her parents, her psychiatrist, and her friend; no matter how hard they tried to remind her of her humanity, Azure believes this chimera form is her true body now.

Peeling Onions

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I was in the kitchen peeling onions. They stung my eyes, and perhaps I was crying. I heard my dear husband run into the room and turned with the knife in my hand.

How Jellyfish Make Love

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It was 1986 when I met you. We both lived on Decatur Avenue in a tank that had enough room for you, me, and all our fake plastic accoutrement. I was 30 years old -- really old for a jellyfish. Some people thought I'd die sooner. But I knew better. I was…

Sounds

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They try to incorporate a little of Ravel around their edges, the ones where their molecules bump off into other parallel realities, into other non-localities, into other potentials. She isn't buying it. She's tuned in. And she can tell.

Shadow Walker

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Night became day and back again in the span of a heartbeat, the familiar strangeness of the sudden change stinging like dust in the eye.

woman having her hair combed. Degas

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The nude woman sits straight back, with her hand indented in the flesh at her hip, bracing herself as the comb is pulled through her long hair, with her breasts thrust forward into the light.

Girl Ajar

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Mother saw and swung. It was a talented slap. The kind which left white welts and then dissolved to venom in your veins. The inside of your cheek puckered and bloated.