Category Archives: FICTION

FICTION (1000 WORDS OR MORE)

My Beautiful Father

My Beautiful Father

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A coming-out is kind of like a reverse surprise party: the invitation is an ambush, and once you receive it, you’re at the party. more

The Magic Boots

The Magic Boots

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“Quentin, you know I hate football.”

Quentin nodded. He knew. And it was just another reason to break up with Marcie. He just had to get her to ask how much the boots had cost, and it would be smooth sailing from there. Yes, there would be tears and pouting, angry recrimination, but it was something that had to be done.more

Anchor Detail

Anchor Detail

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I lifted a quick prayer for that fisherman, even as I watched him throw his back into reversing his course. What chance does a little guy have in this world, you know?more

Gentle Cozy Universe-Spinning Whispers

Gentle Cozy Universe-Spinning Whispers

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Edward cannot find rest without Nya X since his mother died and he watches her on YouTube precisely because he is not turned on when she dresses like a Russian nurse.more

Something Different

Something Different

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Rain, snow, sleet, or hail—every day, at precisely 7:30 a.m. Michael takes Goldie, his golden retriever-german shepherd mix, for a walk. Every day at 8:55 a.m. he arrives at work, where, for the last 40 years, he’s sold minivans to families with sticky-fingered toddlers and sport cars to retired men with bald spots and dropping testosterone levels Every day since his wife died, for dinner Michael microwaves a frozen dinner. Every day, by 9:30 p.m. he’s drifted off to sleep, Every day until today. Today, he is jobless.more

WHERE’S WALDO

WHERE’S WALDO

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Lately my life had become a single note; one key out of eighty-eight. Dull and rote. I had become something I never believed possible: mundane. At times, spiritually inert. I got the strange feeling Waldo knew this, could sense this within me. I was embarrassed. Appearing weak was worse than being weak.more

Low IQ

Low IQ

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Harold Simpson, the English department chair, told me I had a low IQ. To Mr. Simpson, I was somewhere between mentally defective and virtuoso—more likely to work in an ad agency than write poetry or a Harvard thesis about the existential angst of Jean-Paul Sartre and his friends. I would never, in his mind, bemore

Quick Math

Quick Math

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Darrell stared at the room placard just below the peephole until his sight went out of focus. He made the numbers 404 transform, they shuffled and stretched, elastic, until they spelled out their true meaning as Darrell saw them. A warning: Death O’Death.more

Capital of Dreams

Capital of Dreams

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He’d felt chewed up and spit out a thousand times but this time the hangover was nowhere to be found. He felt rested. He was ready to take on the world all over again and give just as much as he got. A drink was exactly what he needed.more

LIARS

LIARS

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You made life more exciting with that hot dog story. The ball landing in the mustard! The foursome laughing, rolling on the tee box, heads exploding. How do you hit a fucking ball backwards! Oh, man, they’re dying! You brought joy into the world, I’m telling you.more