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  • Fiction > Scripts & Plays
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    Begin with a black screen – mostly black. Low-hue, indistinguishable colors swirl around for a few moments. We hear mostly unintelligible voices and sounds, an ambulance siren the most prevalent. Slowly, but still slightly muffled, the voices of JEN and the PARAMEDIC become intelligible, and we se...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    People want things that don’t make them happy Variations of the same old story. The box in the room says this or that solves all problems Corporations exploit the same old story. Neighbor sees neighbor with something neighbor doesn’t have The formation of the same old story. Compan...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Jumping to conclusions without any sort of evidence Actually, your voice and your sexy sort of arrogance Can make me swoon and think of elegance Kind of ironic, isn’t it, that this completely lacks eloquence. Something I’m attracted to might be your eminence Or in everything you do, your ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    There was a philosopher who said, There’s a machine, somehow, somewhere That if you hook it up to your head Will give you unlimited pleasure there. The same pleasure you’d feel living life. If you are connected to the pleasure machine, You never have to do anything ever again. For...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    My wife will probably kill me. Mother Mary is glaring down at me with rage. I hope my two kids don’t find out. Should I really be with a girl this age? He’s nice but he’s kind of a bore, Not really worth the label of whore But hey, I say, what’s more is more, Just like those guys on...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Sharp prickles on your chest I see While your shoulders are silk as I hear The music of your touch. Blues and lilacs are what I smell Off your breath while I taste The odor of your breath, and it makes no sense. But soon you turn on the television and nonsense, Leaving me to stew in the tas...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    I was three years old, and all I could see was the cupcake. I’d been tugging at my mother’s pants for the past five minutes while she juggled me, cleaning the kitchen, and talking on the phone. I wanted something ordinary, like food or television or attention. And since I wasn’t dying – s...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    I want to tell you something, Rachel. Will you listen? I just want to tell you one thing. So you know how we're in a room which is in a house which is on a street which is in a neighborhood which is in a city which is in a state which is in a country which is on a continent which is on a p...
  • Opinion > Entertainment / Celebrities
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    I never really followed the Casey Anthony story much. I never sat for hours glued to the TV or the computer screen, watching the live feed of the trial or the “analysis” of morning talk-show hosts. I never pored over tabloids and newspapers, searching for every last gruesome detail. Sure, I had ...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    There is an orchestra up there somewhere, an orchestra whose purpose is to serenade the divine above and terrify the mortals below. It is part of their magic, and magic they do produce. And I, nothing and nobody significant, watch them come. It is orchestra night in the heavens, and the gods are...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    She walks past her star, not giving it a glance but still noting to herself that it is there and she is passing it. She holds her head up high and shakes her carefully-styled gray hair occasionally to let passersby know that she is aware of it and keeps it like this intentionally. Big reflecting sun...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    He lives in a sea. He is a bright beacon in an ocean of grey. Some swim towards him, hoping he will rescue them (not save - he will never call it Save). Others stroke against the waves, preferring to drown. They don't like the beacon. They don't think he's a beacon at all. They think ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    There was the man on the street corner in a grimy part of New York City. He sat against the side of a crumbling brick building, begging the poverty-stricken passersby to give him what they had. A guitar case sat in front of him, but he played an old flute, making sweet music that caused his audience...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I've always been the macho man. The fighter. The think-skulled thug who neither has nor needs emotions, and cannot be bothered to try to understand them in others. I was the kind of guy who ate raw eggs and nails for breakfast and started off the morning by doing a hundred sit-ups. I could not ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I need it for the food, Dante thought as he swiped the cash box. No alarms went off, no night guard brust from nowhere to tackle him to the ground, no steel door began descending over the office's wooden one. A clean, successful theft. For food, Dante reminded himself. For the things I need for...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    Click. Click. Click. The beautiful princess sits bored in her tower, reading a book about other princesses and handsome princes. She herself believes that one day her own handsome prince will come for her, because, well, that's what princes do for princesses, and - Clickclickclick. ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I had a child, didn't I? Once. A really long time ago. He was a beautiful baby, with ringlets of golden hair and a coo that made your eyes water with joy, even if you'd never seen him before. He was interested in anything and everything, and his eyes were just so smart. I could tell he...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    It was a beautiful photograph, except for the figure. Elisa took it on the beach in Maine as the sun set, facing away from the water and towards the row of pine trees that obscured the beach houses behind them and that made the area look clean, pure, and untouched by man except for the line of ...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    The last thing James saw before the blackness was the barrel of the .22 pointed in his face. And he last thing he heard before the blackness was the voice of the maniac screaming, "You gonna die, b****, you gonna diiiiiiiee!" James opened his mouth to tell the maniac that he was not, ...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    "Hold still, sir," the doctor muttered. Henry hadn't moved. "I am, sir," he said docily. The doctor stared for a moment. "Right," he then said. "I'm sorry. Most of our patients put up a fight." He then stared at Henry, as if afraid he h...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    Jen died on the way to the hospital on a day that, a few hours before, she had looked out the window and thought, "This will be a good day." She was conscious almost to the very end, and as she slipped between fuzziness and clarity and realized she was dying, she thought that she wasn...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    To vote, Annie thought as she walked down the sidewalk towards the stadium, is to be a full citizen. To vote, she thought as she showed the ticket man her registration card, is to exercise one's rights. To vote, she thought as she took her place beside the fat man and the curly-haired ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    "Hey, Jackie -" "It's Jaycee." "Oh. Sorry, Jaycee. Hey, thanks for coming! It's gonna be a blast. Where's Jackie?" "Oh, she's somewhere around here. She doesn't really bother to say hello to people. Bet she's looking for...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I remember when I was five years old and my father tried to teach me how to ride a bicycle. It was exhilarating - he’d run with me for a moment while I pedaled the two-wheeler as hard as I could. He would hold the bike steady for just a moment, and then, with a thrust, he would push me off to peda...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The clock struck 1:22 and 43 seconds, and the milliseconds started ticking. Ellie was staring off into space, subconsciously admiring the nuances of the concrete wall. Her hand held her chin, and vague half-thoughts of being somewhere other than this dingy classroom were running through her head...

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