Stories tagged short


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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).

The Book

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The woman returns from the store with an armload of books. She reads them quickly, one by one, over the course of the next few weeks. But when she opens the last one, the woman frowns in surprise. All the pages in the book are blank. Every single one.

Domina, Doreen, Dorma

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What month then, what spring or fall, what meaningless season of locusts and black flies besetting our town, flown in on thickening air, on sickening smell? And then, in the middle of its days, this chrysalis, this cocoon, found wrapped between us...

Carpe Tempus

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Now all I have left is yesterdays.


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The gun sits quietly in the woman's handbag.


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The sink spat its water in a most erratic and vindictive fashion, with varying temperatures of discomfort and a nefariously mechanical nonchalance. Her arms are elbow deep in the misbehaving appliance, it looked to us as if she was drowning a small rodent

Ordering a muse over the phone

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"Well, I'd like to inquire about getting a muse. It says in your ad that you provide muses for people who are creatively challenged by their art form."

My Son Thinks He's French

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My son thinks he's French.His accent was cute at first, but it's starting to get on my nerves. If he asks for another glass of Beaujolais I'm gonna go to jail for child abuse.Yesterday, I walked upstairs to make him turn his new Jacques Brel album down and I swear it…

The Vessel dad da

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Billy Monahan came round the bend across from the brothel, when Thomasius  von  Bornheim appeared, staggering drunk, quoting lines from the book of revelations, but not revealing anything.“I am a prophet”, von Bornheim cried, “but nobody wants to hear me…


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When you live in New Orleans, the only time you ever get to see cows is at the Winn-Dixie 24 Hour Super Store, in the back between the dairy and the seafood.

Off the record

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Writers, hopeful ones, hopeless ones, poets and petty penmen, worked as bartenders, librarians, substitute teachers, anything.

A New Tattoo

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She’s waving, Hey, I’m home! Like nothing’s happened. Like weeks haven’t passed since she left.

Scrawls From My Blue Period

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The following was written under disagreeable circumstances, in that I was present for them.

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

Sex Dungeon for Sale!

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