Stories tagged loss

Serial Killer

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Once Mom finally came to terms with the fact that my brother was gay, she became convinced he was a serial killer. “He has all the signs,” she told me as she trimmed my hair. “Signs?” I asked, watching her in the…


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CHAINSAW (n.) — 1. A portable, mechanical tool used for sawing. 2. Used primarily for the removal of foliage, branches, and dead limbs (see also AMPUTATION).

Carpe Tempus

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Now all I have left is yesterdays.

Losing Things

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I infuriate myself with this gift.


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Bloop. Velvet's paws hit the carpet. The new man of the house is on the prowl for food, a walk. Breakfast was Rice-A-Roni; for lunch I'm serving Ring Dings. Perhaps he'd like a bite?

A Funeral in November

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Cancer took Ned's wife away from him around the thirteenth of November; the mourning would extend to January.


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I saw a former lover today, by complete accident.


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'That November I washed my hair with rabbit's blood -"


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I go to the seaand turn myself over in my hand like a shell: a hollow conch carried on the resonance of a song long past its singing. My heart is a well and this city, one that is forever in drought.

Stretch Marks

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Stretch marks part my heart, stretch marks part my body.

I Don’t Understand ?

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SHE: I hate you, don't leave me. Let me drive you away so you will stay. You ask about the worst of me, what I've told nobody and hidden just out of sight. I'd say it's hidden below the surface, but I wear it on my sleeve or just under it -- so you wil

The Unpublished Writer and His Love Interest (The Painter)

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When the writer expressed with subtle alacrity that he adored the painter, she was flattered and didn't raise objection. The writer-in his aloof manner, with experienced caution-pointedly wrote a poem directly for his muse. She never spoke of it, and hi

(1) Nan

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[Her adviser] looked at her and tilted his head, smiling. Over his shoulder she saw the M104 bus cruising up Broadway, and considered diving under it. Instead she took off toward the corner, in shame, and he followed. When they parted ways, he took her ha

The Secret Animal

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Then Richard Devroe tried to wish himself as small as things would be if they were never coming back but nonetheless returned.


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Some folks say your hands can tell the story of your life. Well, my hands cain't talk, but they've made so many pies, I bet they could do it themselves if you cut 'em off and gave 'em the right ingredients, I sure do.