Stories tagged fiction


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My father has no left hand. He lost it in an accident when I was an infant, leaving him a rounded stub dark and as rough as bark. Growing up, it’d terrify me.

They didn’t read Pitchfork or Stereogum or Gorilla vs. Bear or Hipster Runoff

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They didn’t read Pitchfork or Stereogum or Gorilla vs. Bear or Hipster Runoff, only glanced at them, not enough blaise in reading, but skimming kept your credibility, thank god those sites now posted more and more videos. They didn’t subscribe to VICE


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Years from now, Rory would remember the first sight of his grandmother—veins lashed to spindly brown legs, stern lips, grey plait as long as a girl's. A stillness that deleted you. The look in her eyes. She'd heard what he could do.

Sex Dungeon for Sale!

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Calm down, I wouldn’t classify this as a sex dungeon.


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He had what was commonly referred to in junior high as the ‘bullshit mustache’.

The Animals

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You're fetching coffee in the kitchen and your mother is patrolling the area with her brutalizing eye. She hands you the cream. Her big pooch can't help himself and besides. You have no idea how long it's been since a man's come in there.

Saving Grace

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It essentially comes down to this: If you have nothing left but paper, all you can really use it for is wiping your behind if you’re in a jam.

Leave Off Doves

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Midway through the fall semester, an unremarkable girl in Professor Woody's Advanced Fiction workshop dyed her hair an unnatural shade of dark, changed her name to Tasmina, and turned in a story filled with made-up words.

The Confession

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"I wasn't hungry. I was looking for a taste.”

Yeah Yeah I Will I Promise

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After we have sex I slip cash into your purse, just a few bucks, without you knowing. You're not a whore, but I'd like to buy you lunch sometime without having to be there.


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And it seemed that, just a little more—and the solution would be found, and then a new, beautiful life would begin; and it was clear to both of them that the end was still far off, and that the most complicated and difficult part was just beginning.

Matters of Breeding

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In my room, the deal goes well until it stops going well.

The Score

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His wallet came out with a little tug. Like his thingy, Cindy thought. His wallet, too, was a fact.

The Disappearances

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When a hole opened in the courtyard, the kids threw pennies down and called it the wishing well. We said, "Someone must have dug it." When the hole opened wider, we said, "Someone must still be digging."

The Saved Man

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I talked to the Saved Man in a bar in Khao Lak, Christmas Day 2004. Not that I cared that it was Christmas: I remember the date because of what happened the next day.