Stories tagged suicide

X, FINALE PART 1: Alex

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"My dad said the universe was God trying to kill himself….” he said.

Suicide Notes

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He remembered when his father did it to him. Shotgun in the bathtub to avoid a mess. But the worst part was Dad didn't even leave a note.

Three-Fifty-Seven

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So this was it, at last this moment had come. He gave no credence to the notion of fate, yet this final act had been inevitable.

How to Forget

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Refuse to go to the church service, even though you already missed the funeral. Tell his mother something came up. Call his phone over and over, just to hear his voice, until his mother asks you to stop. Make a recording of his voicemail. Delete it an

Hidden Things

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Reenie had always wanted to see Paris. In her dreams at night, she walked the old streets of the city, dressed up in floaty clothes, the smell of French perfume on the air. She told us that French perfume was just how Heaven smelt. But instead of Paris she had…

Breaking Dawn

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This is where he died, she says to me, and points to the damp pavement. Her hair is wet, and slicked against her neck. The humidity is making everything engulf her. The sleep shorts I bought her last July are loose on her now, but between the rain and

VENICE IN THE AFTERNOON

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It's cloudy out. So I go to the Assisted Suicide Center on Venice Blvd. It doesn't mean I'm gonna off myself because it's cloudy. There just happens to be a kind of puzzle of clouds in the sky the moment I decide to head over there. I find it fitting, thi

Of Alleys & Ivory

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“You think it’s a self-castrating suicide note or a self-righteous freedom speech?” “Probably just the ramblings of a madman, pissed he lost a company baseball game.” “Fuckin-A, Pete! Double-murder suicide for a baseball game? Ain’t nobody that craz

Tumorhead at the End of the World

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I’ve always wondered why my sister got all the luck in our family. She was shinier than the rest of us, somehow. Had the sweet smell of “good luck” on her.

The Dock

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Row, Caps of white, A salted escape beneath reflected light. Brother, remember those old lies? I’m off to sea to make those things right, now.

Placebo Low-Residency MFA Part 1: The Writing Program

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Old because, perhaps when you were a child, it was known as a writing "correspondence" school.

The Tomb

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His spoken words had reavealed nothing, but the far-off look in his eyes had told me good-bye.

Competing Demands

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Was there such a thing as sacred suicide?

Suicidal Thoughts

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There were so many suicide choices it seemed overwhelming. The chief criteria was the least pain.

Placebo Low-Residency MFA : The Writing Program and the Suicide

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He knew just by looking at me that I had hit bottom. My guardian angel. I read that poem crinkled up in my pocket ten times a day.