Stories tagged literary-fiction

Damn Yankees

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The blue uniforms tore the house apart in the search for treasures. They took the big bags of cornmeal, the wagon and all the horses. They even took the dog.

The Lost Dog

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The mutt came into their house from the deepest pit of hell. He ate Lucas' favorite pair of tennis shoes. He pulled the heads off of Barbie dolls and swallowed them whole. He even marked his territory on the couch.

You've Done Good

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For a fleeting moment, eyes seemed to clear and the man spoke as if he were coming out of the pea soup fog that formed over the lake on spring mornings.

A Salty, Slutty Bird (for the Paddy Group Challenge)

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"Besides," he said, "Any woman who can tolerate a salty, slutty bird is a keeper."

Cliche

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Six thousand dollars was a small price for a man's life. Mario was in the back seat of the Honda with Johnny next to him handcuffed, all tense. Francisco had it on a rap station, the sort of music that gave Mario a headache.

Birthday Boy

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The sound of it wasn't right in his head yet. When he said it aloud he didn't really believe it.

In a Pinch

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His worst nightmare had come true. He wasn't wearing green and all of the other kids were.

Sad News

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They got out wearing their crisp brown Army jackets and khaki pants; she saw the cross on the lapel of the officer's shirt and just knew. These men brought sad news from faraway places.

Island Music

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Of all the things Shelly hated about her job, the music was the worst.

Don't Touch

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Frank must have said "don't touch" about a million times over the course of the day

The Cry of Freedom

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"Only the gods in heaven can do such things," he shouted back, his voice hoarse and parched from no water for two days. "Wouldn't your God have saved you by now if he had the power?"

Wild Dreams of Reality, 9

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As we sat at the cafe, Darrell told me that he had to make a mushroom delivery to one of his clients in Berkeley. I never knew whether it was legal or illegal business he was on, and he made a point of not telling me, because he said it was better I didn

The Serious Writer Tracks His Stats

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The officers carried him away in cuffs as he yelled "I NEED STATS! PLEASE! JUST GIVE ME THE STATS!"

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 1

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In those days everyone ate poetry for lunch. It was considered essential for your good up-bringing and mental health. We would skip a meal in order to satisfy our hunger for words. To hell with a meal. To hell with dirty politics and meaningless wars on o

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 2

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I lived for a time on Red Square in Berkeley. You may have heard of it. It was run by Von Rotten (that’s just plain Von), who was considered the Vladimir Lenin of the Foul Language Movement of Poetry (FLMP, pronounced “Flimp,” sometimes “Flump,”