Stories tagged death

To My Almost Dead Friend

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the spit 'n polish

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With gum stuck to my shoe . . .

Surrendering August

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on the far shore, in the vineyards timed charges explode like the sun catching on fire it scares crows away from the grapes

Living in the Death Industry Could Kill You; The Q&A

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Q: Tell me briefly about how you got into the death industry.

To Walk Backwards

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Tom wasn’t crying. A few snowflakes, the first of the season, flittered down and landed on Elizabeth’s new headstone, christening it. Tom didn’t have his topcoat, and he never buttoned his suit. He tried not to shiver. Lynn lifted her face from Tom’s c

Tale of Another Country

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At twelve, I had begun to think about death as a possibility of life.

The First Heart Attack, or What Happens to Your Daughter When You Die for a Little While

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There is no happiness found here. It was a dove darkened by honesty, by fear. Should you need happiness, find it elsewhere inside your mind. It is in this place where all things can be honorable and right. It is here where light turns outward.*While the…

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

Eulogy

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In one hand she cradles a cigarette, in the other a glass of red wine. Typically neither of these things would be allowed in here, and on this occasion it was thought that it would be better to let her do what she wanted.

Brand New Devotion

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As razor toothed gravediggers darken soil beneath iron...

Oklahoma, 1944: Howard Hughes Spends the Night in Jail

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There's a drain in the floor.

ten skulls

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short poem I wrote with no socks on, the floor was cold.

Blackouts

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The Bird King is trapped behind the mirrors. Sometimes you'll see a hand, a wing, fluttering in a dark space. You may even see his breath, a pulse of mist in a corner of the glass. But don't ever smash his silvered prison. Don't ever let him out and into the world.*****O…

Disassembly

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Maybe the thing is over by now. They have gathered up all the pictures and mementos of our dad’s life and hauled them away.

Three Sundays at The Grove

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Now, gazing into Greg’s expectant eyes, the only Chinese word Deepti could summon was kuei. Ghost. Before that summer, her mother flipped through the pages of Maxine Hong Kingston’s memoir every day, as if she could glean magic from the touch of her finge