Stories tagged short-story

You Don't Take Names

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You want to know what happened to him and your curiosity is a cat pawing at the edges of your impatience as you roam aggressively around your old haunts.

Broken Symmetry

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It was not until my twelfth birthday that I realised the face I saw in the mirror was not mine.

Welcome to Space Island

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He was still dozing when his father yelled out in joy at seeing the faded sign, complete with a cartoon rocket ship flying through the starry blue sky. It read "Welcome to Space Island! Home of the first monkeys in outer space!"

A Letter to the Girl I May or May Not Have Slept With Last Night

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Can I really be blamed? Look at the circumstantial evidence: you wore that skirt, which can hardly be called a skirt. More like a very wide plaid belt.

Spring

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I had my first orgasm dry-fucking you on the couch of your parents’ living room. The couch was a sectional, plush beige; the coming like biting into a Chewel’s. After all, we were still dressed and I was the class prude.

The Animals

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You're fetching coffee in the kitchen and your mother is patrolling the area with her brutalizing eye. She hands you the cream. Her big pooch can't help himself and besides. You have no idea how long it's been since a man's come in there.

Leave Off Doves

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Midway through the fall semester, an unremarkable girl in Professor Woody's Advanced Fiction workshop dyed her hair an unnatural shade of dark, changed her name to Tasmina, and turned in a story filled with made-up words.

The Confession

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"I wasn't hungry. I was looking for a taste.”

What She Remembers (Annie)

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The first thing she remembers is sunshine, then her own dawning, and feeling the lumps on her head and bruises on her face and pain in her heart and aloness of her soul.

Orbit

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And it seemed that, just a little more—and the solution would be found, and then a new, beautiful life would begin; and it was clear to both of them that the end was still far off, and that the most complicated and difficult part was just beginning.

Matters of Breeding

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In my room, the deal goes well until it stops going well.

The Score

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His wallet came out with a little tug. Like his thingy, Cindy thought. His wallet, too, was a fact.

Visitation Hour

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She watches too much VH1 for a five-year-old.

Jew

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He returned once more with the sad platter of fish, all filmy-eyed and gelatinous and she knew it was an impossibility.

All Good Catholic Boys Like to Suck Lolly's Pop

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Visions of sugared powdery plums danced behind closed lids as he inculcated the prayer ruled by nuns into his knuckles since youth.