Stories tagged short-story

Blue Canada

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“Got a light?” He startled me. I hadn't seen him sitting there in the dark. “Get off my truck.” I closed my fist around the keys and stuffed them back into my pocket. I'd never seen this bum before. I remember thinking how small he…

Where Does Love Come?

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He was rummaging through his giant pile of clothing on the floor, looking for something to wear to sleep. When he couldn't quite tell what was dirty and what was clean, he knew it was time for laundry. Just as he was going to…

7th Avenue Local

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The harsh lights of the 7th Ave. Local revealed dark circles that had remained hidden during Vivian’s performance.

Upper East

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As the 5 train gained momentum away from Fulton Street, Helen took her seat with the alertness and suspicion of someone who had spent the day negotiating prices with dirty fishmongers.

A Quotidian Happening

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The petrichor was demulcent and was suffused with the room air. Mandy was slouching in his couch contemplating about his future. He was studying engineering, but sucked at it.

Fulton Flapper

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The Italian was late. She was supposed to come into the store, meet him in the back, and arrange to take the last of his liquor.

Full of it

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My life isn't exactly what you'd call glamorous. Hell it's not even good. Not like that bathroom cabinet, getting cleaned every other day and handled like it's made of glass.No, my life is literally full of shit. They come, they sit, they shit. On the good days, I'm lucky…

Weeks

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She was wearing a black tank top and jeans, standing in the shade. Why was she there again? The camera hanging around her wrist answered her question. Right, he had called. He had asked if she could take picture for him and his…

Diamond Dash

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I pointed to the strange man. “Who’s this?” I said. Ethan looked puzzled. “That’s a man with his head on fire.”

Boss Gloss

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Short-short fiction

Chaz and Betty

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immortal love is tough

Flotsam

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When you live in a place a long time, sometimes you love it and then you hate it. But get enough years down the track and you don’t even notice it anymore. That’s because it’s not out there anymore, it’s wormed its way into you, shaped you, the grey mush

Golden Dawn

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Rose would have preferred to survey the wreckage alone, between sips of her earl grey, but the morning light drew her attention to blonde and jet black curls weaving into folds of fabric.

Erased

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You took up residence on the dark side of things, a bolthole in a wind-flayed right angle of a tower block where pigeons and suicides tumbled blackly on the air currents. You set about drifting off from who you were on a tide of cheap whisky and bad poetry, graduating…

The Cook, the Socialite, Her Party and its Consequences.

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They were sitting around the white-clothed dinner table awaiting the first course and Didi was, of course, referring to her exhibition - Le Skin Collage - which had drawn outrage from the Pope and breathless, somewhat confused, admiration from fashion cir