Stories tagged fiction

Somnambulist

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Although still uncertain of whether she was a she fish or a he fish (she definitely hated being an it fish), the fish liked what she saw of Nags Head. Finally, a world that gave her a choice. And felt no need to verify whether she was a real she fish, or just a he fish…

First Shot (45)

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Previously we learned who fired the "shot heard 'round the world" and why he fired it. Here's what happened to the shooter after he rode from Lexington on Paul Revere's horse.

First Shot (46)

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We left Blow reading the final page in Willie Hosner's Revolutionary War diary. In today's thrilling episode, Blow catches serious hell from Mary Lloyd...

First Shot (47)

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We left Blow and Mary confronting a threatening voice mail from unscrupulous news reporter Mel Watterman. Today we watch them duel by text messages with Lt. Callahan.

Magdalene's dream

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That night Magdalene dreamt about Jesus.

The Sky Suffocated

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In the night the rain made gentle, the flood still far off, and downstairs on the dining-room table the centerpiece collected dust as the hours passed.

The Air, Fair Crackling

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She called him a nasty one as she shed her skin on the rug in front of the heater.

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

THUNDERSNOW

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I know who done it. Them goddamn taters. I walked around the yard and started picking up pieces of the camaro, wondering if, from above, they’d laid the parts out into some kinda cult symbols or something.

Rambutan!

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(In English: “Ignite!”) Pea jams a match under the burner. He holds on until the flame licks his nail. A cook's fingers. He feels nothing! Left hand: one spoon of oil into the wok. Two spoons (“For health,” he whispers in Thai). The sheen catches the noon

Beelzebub

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The jewels were dragonflies, buzzing lazily, Beelzebub’s hair a golden meadow.

My Relationship With Reading

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What if I said;I never liked actually reading - the black words on white paper straining my eyes flying through my mind forming sentences I struggle to make sense of before the next Capital Letter arrives before I eventually slam the book shut veins in my brain…

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.

Diving Is the Only Thing That Helps

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“Best bet for that is the balloon shop by the swamp.”

No Thanks

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But although her culinary plans are running smoothly, my mother’s mood is lethal. Look closely and you can see thin plumes of smoke escaping from her mouth and the tips of two horns peeping between the rollers on top of her head. This is not uncommon for