781 0 1
|
Of course it’s because she’s been drinking. Will she regret this? I don’t understand it but maybe it is something she has thought about for some time.
|
9300
|
The Southern Comfort he sits outdoors in a snow-storm’s snowflakes collecting in his drink.
|
120995
|
"In the world of imagination, all things belong. If you take that on faith, you may be foolish, but foolish like a trout." Richard Hugo
|
120341
|
In mid dream, mid journey, there's a barrier we must cross, flat and vast like an ocean. We're told the barrier is a monster. To cross the barrier we must maim one of its eyes. There, rising to the surface is half a large…
|
2330
|
Golden arrows that used to point forward, left or right, spin directionless on what used to be empty white walls.
|
11551512
|
(I'd appreciate some feedback on this very weird story.) A Frosted Mini Wheat walks in to a bar...
|
91822
|
I keep the book when the lessons are done, go through the pages Momma skipped over...
|
63400
|
It was the middle of the night when she started hearing voices.
She thought the voice was saying, “Hello Dolly, Hello Dolly,” and that was when she called the building manager.
It was the middle of the night, but he came up to her apartment anyway, be
|
5000
|
Tattooing over your confusion by assuming you decorating the most painful acres of your flesh impresses anyone who has invested just as much money in the effort.
|
104832
|
The voice on the other end mumbles, not forming words, but I understand: I am to be the starting third baseman for the Detroit Tigers.
|
112361
|
Mr. Wazzeldot has seven legs. He lives very comfortably. He likes to sit by the fire. There's a large cushion for a chair, and in the evenings, he sips his Bloody Marys. I know because I visit him…
|
47683
|
I’m leaving him, soon as these flowers die.
|
20529833
|
We had them in our bunk beds in the trailer, before Becky fell and broke her neck.
|
92411
|
There's something about the way he touches me every time that makes my heart skip a beat and pushes the air from my throat. I shiver under his hot breath while he whispers softly and pulls himself closer, letting his fingers glide…
|
3721
|
If I tell you when I was six I remember climbing a tree, falling, and breaking my wrist, fine. Now let me tell you the tree was an elm whose leaves showed the first tinge of yellow in the young autumn. Purple and white clovers dotted the yard my father hadn't gotten…
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