Stories tagged short-story

True Story

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The woman worked her way around the table in mechanical fashion, quickly, but exactingly. It was a sight to behold. Lovely had nothing to compare it to in her own experience. Things at Lovely's home were casual. They didn't own cloth napkins, or wine glasses. The silverware…

Frozen Chicken

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One of the pieces, I noticed, had the real shape of a miniature chicken, its mohawk, pin legs, and small definition of wing. “Look at that,” I said to my friend. And just then, the wing twitched.

The Tamarack Swamps

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Last night, in a tavern called Wits End, we dropped quarters into a console, sized and shaped like an old TV.

The United Church of Cigarettes

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Most keep their eyes closed. Some look up at the cloud covering the kneeling ecclesiastical trash perched high. Others look around, overly warm.

Plaque on the wall of the new gymnasium at Middleton Elementary School

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I'm sure this sort of thing happens all the time.

Inaccurate Recollection

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Q: How do you explain immaculate conception?

A little longer

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When she looked up, sure as Christmas, the bus was coming toward them. It was big and yellow, and it squeaked to a stop right at the end of the walk.

How Jellyfish Make Love

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It was 1986 when I met you. We both lived on Decatur Avenue in a tank that had enough room for you, me, and all our fake plastic accoutrement. I was 30 years old -- really old for a jellyfish. Some people thought I'd die sooner. But I knew better. I was…

things to know about the people parked along the road that runs through Humboldt Park: part 1

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It was as if every wrong foisted upon his ancestors stirred up a war in him and he was charged with intending the canon at the living.

The Replica City

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From somewhere beneath the train, steam rose, which was—of course—puzzling as the train was powered by electricity. The steam condensed on the windows of the cars, making tears streak across the surface. Perhaps that was why the woman’s cheeks were shinin

Life of the Writer

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I am a romantic writer, true. But what comes after the romance is what fascinates me. A lover dying is the most beautiful scene I want to write. The most beautiful scene I have yet to write.

Our Time as Men

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Rhonda looks guilty as it is, don’t you think? That hair! And the unhappiness smeared across her face like war paint after a war.

Croatoan

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Like when guys used to join the French Foreign Legion. Disappear, vanish.

Hiccup

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I’m no expert, but to me it looked human.

God Wants a Sandwich

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Two cars smashed together, the sky started to look like a foot infected with gout...