Stories tagged short

Fantasy Wiring

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In the mechanics of the fantasy, it is essential that the wiring is maintained, all circuits working, every current flowing with the precise measurements, lest the system malfunction and the world completely lost. The engineers are constantly abuzz, constantly understaffed…


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In search of my spiritual source I was trailingDown canyons darker than depths undefinedMy shadow has followed the same foreign footstepsHeard the cruel whispers and told the same liesWe drink the same sorrowSleep til tomorrowHead back to SamsaraIt builds up mind and…


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Madison was not stupid, just uncultured. She knew nothing of England, but decided to travel from New York to Warwickshire to see Shakespeare's grave. She hoped to capture some sort of magic from seeing the playwright's tomb...

LH 1787

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How did Hannibal get elephants through that?


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I held at my gut and immediately regretted laughing at Frank when he pulled the pocket-knife out on me. I doubled over and fell to the floor. "John, was a typer all this important?" Frank asked, knife in hand.


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Normally I would have never drank such a wine, but it was late on a Friday evening and the bottle was on the house...

The Rats

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I climb up on the sofa and stand next to him. I smell something.

A Moment's Change

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Then he spoke of her cowardice, and from within, her heart fluttered and a soft heat branched out across her chest, face, and stomach pits and she felt imprisoned by that room.

This Night

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On the balcony the rain felt gentle on my face and across the street in a window I noticed two figures embraced. The clouds had not yet passed above me and the night was still as dreadful as it had ever been.

Him and his Father

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Snow was falling. People passed by the window and wore large coats. Inside, Alex stood in front of the window and watched.

And her child

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The mother was happy, though. She was happy because she could make him some soup and then she could feed it to him in bed.


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“Your mother, so dark, the gypsy. Don’t love her. We’ll call her something like ‘Blackie.’ The French have a particular word for a union like ours, your mother’s and mine. It’s ‘mésalliance’, you will remember the word, won’t you, girlie? If you do, yo


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Her ghost/kept coming back/to Hamlet

Personal Time

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“I”, fuck it. I, I, I, I. It has always only been about me, this voice of mine, indivisibly me. selfishly and pompously. I shall not dispense with the false pleasantries other writers will offer, those writers that say, “Reader, look here, look at the…


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As he told her what he wanted she relaxed once more; by the end, she was laughing. "I know it's a lot to ask," he said, finally, "and like I said I haven't got a lot of money..." She shook her head. "Sweetheart," she said, "this one I'll do for free."