Most recent stories

Ossian City

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I hear the shriek of the Laughing Lady

Cinderella's Lament

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My name is Wanda McClure and I lived in the foothills of Eastern Kentucky. A small town miles off the interchange, and mostly in the middle of nowhere. I lived in a trailer. I was 52 years old.

Changing a Flat

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Dark, green grass covered the pasture like millions of tiny fingers swaying in the heat.

Avatar Of Chaos

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He has one good eye and is missing the other. The socket of his missing eye squints with a disturbing and unfathomable insight.

How To Laugh and Be Happy When Not Drinking

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That is the question, not to be or not to be Life, death, whether to be, all that is superfluous in the face of laughter and how to achieve it under extraordinary circumstances like not drinking anymore I’m afraid not all the alcoh

I Wonder About the Trees

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I stole forth dimly in the dripping pause

Ever. Happily. After.

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This is a fairy tale. There is a princess who is not a princess but we will call her a princess because every fairy tale has a princess. Her name is Tanya. She's the daughter of a mechanic and a housewife. She has two brothers and two sisters. She is the middle…

confetti

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i’ve started writing these things down on blue-lined notebook paper or really anything i can get my tendonitis-ridden hands on.

Blackballed

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When I was a small child, my father was just barely a man, and he was independently wealthy. So it didn't matter that he was an adolescent inside. There was never any mention of "working." No notion of career. Just the girl he knocked up and the amusing…

Arcana Magi - c.25: Satisfaction

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Danica stared at her hand as she felt he warmth of the wind. She remembered Alysia saying that she felt the wind through the heat.

POSEY'S POND

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She leaned up on an elbow, smirked and touched his leg. “Want to do it?”

lighthouse

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the urgent, naked glow of opportunity or the dim fluorescent nuisance of an object out of reach

The Linguist

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I let the little fingers slip thinking they couldn't stand to hold on anymore. When they were done they said addled and I was left behind in the room with only my hand. I hurt myself trying to picture the pretty girls and they took out a piece above my eye. …

Cats

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My wife and I are cat people. Indeed, that's how we met. We met at a wake.

The History of Strands

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We cannot love the past...

The Death of Sherwood Anderson

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like the Bible in / Mauritania, like a mouse in a vial of ammonia, / like a retired coal miner on vacation in the Alps

That Godot Guy Again - a True-Life Story

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This is what happened today.

Leather and Something Like Infidelity

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Part of me feels like a wounded animal surrounded by hungry cougars. Another part of me feels like being mauled by a cougar might not be that bad. A third part of me wishes he could punch the second part of me in the face.

The I Hate to Fuck Book

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Some women, it is said, like to fuck. This book--The I Hate to Fuck Book--is not for them.

Paul Gauguin: Annah la Javanaise

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It's the outrage of the red monkey at her feet, And the nude thirteen-year-old woman sitting upright In the blue velvet chair, and the hints of blue at her navel, And at her lips and belly and crotch, that so upset Paris. Gauguin had his nerve

Flesh and Blood

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On Monday I cook coq au vin. Fatty yellow skin detached and floating in the sauce.

Slices

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It was one of the first things she did after they opened the wall. That’s at least what she told me years later, more than 1000 miles from Berlin.

Ashes

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Now, the Midwest was ashes. The oceans were covered with hydroponics plant growth.

God's Vial

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The porous bear the anchorite’s vial

These Gothy Days

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(haiku)

Aphrodite in Ruins

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He needed an editor for his Yale dissertation, the shifting borders between criminal justice and the internet. But the sex was inevitable. He was six two. I was blonde. I don’t think we liked each other very much, but that wasn’t important.

This Is Cactus Land

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I cannot regain my balance

Betty Superman

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No, I just liked what it said "All at Once Is What Eternity Is" which seemed right to my seventeen year old mind, explained it all to me the way nothing else did. I matted the poster in art class and put it in a frame over my bed. Betty hated the poster.

Rocky Mountain Oysters

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“They’re Rocky Mountain Oysters,” the blond said. “Fresh. You’ll absolutely love them Jim.”

No Ordinary Pig

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During the day we search for truffles. I have a pig named Henry. He is a big help. He wanders the forest sniffing for truffles like a parable of porcine inquisitiveness. He knows what he is doing. He is not just a pig. Nor ordinary pig. He is a French pig