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  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    First If the magician closes his eyes, he can no longer see the ceiling. If the magician does not look at the ceiling, he can pretend that it is not there. And yet he knows, or a part of him knows, that it is still there. He is hungry: five months has the city been under siege. Five months has...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    Off we go, forbidden friend, Far-off beyond the yonder, Let us in quiet make our bed And pray for merry weather. Let us sigh for lovers lost Who may not have existed Let us recount those rotting bones Whose memory persisted. Let us pretend we do not still Attempt to count the stars. Sh...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    I tire of this wasted land, I tire of this wasted time, I tire of this maddening man, His opaque words and lack of rhyme. In padded cells and ashen skies He scrawled his wandering, weary thoughts With fiery nerves and shivering skin His twisted language bent and crossed Dull voices roare...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Only then, When he held the dead girl in his arms (Swollen with river water, yet so fragile Her skin seeming to tear like paper under his Brisk hands, and he so afraid of dying, So afraid of the dead that he did not dare even To smother her rouged cheeks in mad kisses And her name stopped de...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I. Humbly sincerely I thank you sir For the pale blue Hat you Sent me. But do not think I am unaware That it would look better Set atop a pale complexion. II. White roses please, Yes white, And a white dress to match With a white veil Delicate like My bridegroom’s hands Whi...
  • Fiction > Fan Fiction
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    ASTORIA DIED on a Sunday, which might have been funny or ironic in a way, but it wasn’t. “There are no endings,” she whispered to him as the blood filled her lungs. She coughed, a rough red stain on the sheets. “Just beginnings.” He held her hand, his fragile fingers nearly breaking hers, ...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    The stars sit high on the zenith, staring blankly down at the sand. Kangaroo rats, small and short-lived as snow, dart across cool red earth, tufted tails bouncing along. Cacti stand like soldiers posted to guard the moon. There is no moon. There is no water. There is sand. There is no breeze, and t...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Buckets of ice sit in the cafeteria, iron-deficient ninth-graders scratching at the entrails and the waking, breathing numbness. Blackberries grow sour and stunted in the garden. The wooden sign in the tangle of tomato bones whispers: Pray for rain. Impossibilities were never achieved t...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    Tempest-tossed and whirlwind-worn Across the sea my father lies Thunder-struck and lightning-born Sunlight sleeping in his eyes I am lost: my father waits Autumn-drunk across the sea. Rain, so ravished, fast abates; Tempest-tossed, he waits for me. His arms will hold me soon, I know (So...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Please, stop blaming your cardiac muscle for your endless teenage breakup poems. The heart sits in the middle of your chest and pumps blood. If it breaks, you die....
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    the instruments of our downfall topple to our ankles leonine faces lost and sharp-edged eyes dimming so much have we forgotten so much from the hands that fumbled with corset strings we take the sword we take the bodies we take the kingdom we watch the days die. saliva shivers on that ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Flourescent light Was not kind to you; I imagine it is unkind still. There was some month named to quiet us, Scowling at backs of heads Scoffing at metamorphoses Scabs becoming smooth again; The scientific remnants of Dead cocoons And the thought that you might listen, My tragic hero: ...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    It was with next to no surprise that twenty-four-year-old Olivia Faust looked out of her apartment window that morning and saw a small, sky-colored saucer descending into the bare yard in the back. She watched with mild interest as it landed softly on the long-dead grass, ruffling the skirts and soc...
  • Fiction > Fan Fiction
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    Blood. He dares use my own spell against me? Blood. Severus, no, Severus, no, draw your wand, draw your wand, hurt him back – You can’t. He will kill you he will kill you He is killing me. This is all I am to him? Disposable, valueless, I thought I meant more – You didn’t. W...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    Toby Flescher is walking down the street. There is a crack in the sidewalk. If he steps on it, his mother’s back will be broken, but that does not matter because she is dead. So, say that he does step on it. Toby is not a superstitious man, and nothing will change. There is a red converti...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    His hair was the color of the weak winter sun; His face was the color of the purest of snow. His blood was his innocence, pure and unfettered; His eyes were the ghost of the green grass below. He did not move from the place where he lay, And the horses half-trod on his fingers weak. The enem...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The Red Polo shirts and The khaki shorts Of the Lutheran Elementary School Have returned To our laundry basket Like so many Cotton-and-polyester birds Come home to roost....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I. Whenever you wanted bubblegum, Your mom wouldn’t let you eat it – Just hold it there in your sweaty palm Until it undressed itself there A hollow little egg Your pale hand stained with red cherry blood And sometimes you thought that maybe, (If you waited), Maybe that little egg wou...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    In stopping on the silent path And breathing in the quiet air And listening for nothing there, I heard the nothing say: We are small and we are brave Marching through and passing by; Brothers of the silken moon, Daughters of the treeless sky. We are stars, in death so small We are ants,...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    Fellow Hogwartians, these are dark times. You know why, of course. Harry Potter’s story – the story of the Boy Who Lived – is over. Done. Finished. Finite Incantatem. And that’s sad. When I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, I was ten years old: a mishmash of frumpy clothes,...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    Prologue “Aren’t we, like, too old to be playing Truth or Dare?” One of the stupid blondes giggles tipsily. “Naw, c’mon,” says the musclebound track star, sitting in the cool dark of the grass. “Let’s go. There’s nothing else to do.” He turns to the mumbling knot of teenage...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Turn the music up too loud Scream and tear the voices off Draw a picture – (purple blood, Monsters sneezing, goblins cough) – God made man a manmade God; Backwards isn’t in the mirror. Thoughts are strange, but if you think, They’re not as strange as they appear. Appear they as str...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    CAUTION: Do not ignore disclaimer. Do not mispronounce. Do not lie about owning this product. Do not look directly at celestial body. Do not apply for the FBI’s permission without permission from the FBI. Do not hug teddy bear. Do not read body language. Do not pretend to be what you act...
  • Fiction > Fan Fiction
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    And the strange thing was, she knew him. She had known him before, that voice, that proud way he walked. She had watched him as she had watched everyone else, and she had thought him despicable. She had witnessed him bullying Harry Potter, seen him laughing at the misfortune of others. But of cou...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    “You’re killing me?” His voice is hoarse as he whispers across the white space. The words fall like drops from a leaking faucet, too hard and too loud. You’re. Killing? Me? I’m staring at him and, improbable as it is, he is staring back at me. His breath is coming in wisps. ...

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