Cherrypicked stories
The Downfall of Reverend Allcock
Reverend Allcock secured the battered, old, leather wallet onto the chain that was attached to his belt and slipped it into the pocket, of the trousers he wore beneath his cassock.
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- 4 comments
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- 1733 reads
The real reflection (alternate ending)
The cold water hits his face snapping everything back into focus, he raises his eyes and glances in the glass, the mirror on the wall, And he doesn't see what everyone else sees
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- 2 comments
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- 956 reads
Her Room
Her ex-husband painted the room a dark eggplant color before he left for good. Holly moved the bed to the corner of the bedroom as soon she heard the front door click behind him.
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- 1 comment
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- 1192 reads
The Kiss-1988
The Kiss-1988
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- 4 comments
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- 1645 reads
Play Her
In the music-room with the lights turned low You sink into an armchair Leather caress like skin on skin Embers dance in the dying fire. The needle traces a delicate sphere
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- 5 comments
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- 1766 reads
My Over Inflated Mind.
My head swells, With the words of wisdom, implanted into my Cerebral Cortex. Security Level: Administrator. The signal: Never interrupted. My hair; my face; my clothes.
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- 3 comments
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- 1227 reads
Now or Never, part 2
I didn’t get much sleep last night.
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- 6 comments
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- 1962 reads
bully for you
away from the footie. a bit rough. go on feel free to point out the errors of my ways.
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- 12 comments
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- 5512 reads
Defenestration
Sarah threw the book out of the window. A moment or two passed then shouting from the street outside. The intercom buzzed. Sarah hesitated.
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- 4 comments
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- 1295 reads
When You Said My Name
It seemed such a novelty, spouting from your lips, like a fountain dripping sounds so fluid I was sure my eyes saw each letter on the nighttime sky before a single sound funneled into my ears.
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- 4 comments
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- 1348 reads
Two Pockets
According to Hasidic tradition, everyone must have two pockets. In the right pocket are to be the words: ‘For my sake was the world created,’ and in the left: ‘I am dust and ashes.’
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- 1 comment
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- 1559 reads
Puddings
He entered the hallway to the delicious aroma of fresh baking, smiling to himself as he bent to remove his boots and discarded them carelessly, caring nothing for the dark marks he left on the freshly
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- 3 comments
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- 1225 reads
Frankie Goes to Summer Camp (I.P.)
“On far-off fields, by elm and oak, I see the lights. The Camp-fires of the Past are burning.” Henry Van Dyke ‘Indian Summer’
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- 12 comments
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- 3767 reads
To Speak
Sometimes, they’d come like a racing waterfall over mossy rocks, Flooding the spaces, Forming life or at the very least a bit of green.
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- 4 comments
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- 1360 reads
Storm Clouds
Here's to you my dear, my broken future, my delectable past, the bar splits apart, my sides feel the strain as my hearts aorta chokes on itself, sending blood back through the vessels.
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- 4 comments
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- 986 reads
The Perilous Adventures of Hemlock Jones
A parody of the Sherlock Holmes books (which I love). Only the first part, more to come... I hope.
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- 3 comments
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- 2749 reads
End of days 3
Mr McKenzie was the first person I killed.
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- 8 comments
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- 2940 reads
The drunken ramblings of a bearded man
Staggered walk and squint vision it was clear he was at the point of no recolition, heavy smell of rum on his breath and his teeth stained brown, and as he turned round he mumbled,
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- 5 comments
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- 1420 reads
Just Like Dostoyevsky
Sylvia Mandelstam tells people what a wonderful time she had at the Russian literary symposium in Moscow. Unfortunately, the trip was an unmitigated fiasco not unlike her personal life.
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- 1141 reads
Why I'm angry
It isn't the fact that she was rude, It isn't the detention that she missed, Or the list of obscenities she's hurled at other students,
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- 5 comments
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- 3216 reads
The Critical Sell-By Date
When I wake up and my back’s itching in the place I can’t get at, I might think of the times when I had a girlfriend to scratch it for me. ‘Up a bit, down a bit. That’s it!’
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- 5 comments
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- 2160 reads
Abeyance.
Sitting in abeyance. My life on perpetual hold; the cold air forcing me to hunch up for warmth. Another cigarette... I fondle the packet lovingly, opening and closing the lid,
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- 642 reads
Shoelaces
She said she wanted someone’s shoelaces and everyone laughed. It was hot by the pool and everyone was drunk.
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- 405 reads
That’s what August is
Harmony came into the kitchen wearing a white vest top and nothing else, singing something about Billy Joe Macalister jumping off a bridge. You’re chirpy, I said.
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- 430 reads
THE FLOOD, AND THE ANCIENT THAI MONK
About 4 years ago, I was caught in a flood in southern Thailand with 100s of Thai kids, dozens of Thai teachers, and 2 young white teachers like myself rain, rain, and rain
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- 2 comments
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- 887 reads
The Dichotomy of Dissent
The European scheme that shit ain't me; They rape our lands and feed us poetry.
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- 902 reads
Chapter 1A
Chapter 1: Sex and Death Maybe it's the faintest of premonitions, this little tingle of superstitious guilt as I say to myself 'I feel immortal'...
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- 2 comments
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- 762 reads
An Ode to Academia
Writing is not mathematics
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- 2 comments
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- 1669 reads
Life ...
I wake up. I wearily wash my face in luke warm resignation. As I look around this wretched room, it makes me wonder how on earth I have ended up here.
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- 5 comments
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- 1463 reads
Reflection.
This is my special day. I’ve planned it for ever, and a bit more. An early start. I want to depart, before the house awakes. I look down at the water. It swirls and dances,
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- 4 comments
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- 1135 reads
slag monkey
The station guard was standing under a billboard in which a blonde model in a white bikini sipped a cocktail through a straw.
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- 2 comments
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- 676 reads
People Staring At Walls
Slopout Puddleduck first became a so-called celebrity through the C4 ‘Reality’ programme, 'People Staring At Walls', where ordinary members of the public are filmed 24 hours a day sharing a house
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- 3 comments
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- 2118 reads
Under The Stairs.
I open the cupboard under the stairs, fetching my bag from its hiding place. It waits, So patiently, for me to name the day; the day I leave for good, and today, is that day.
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- 3 comments
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- 860 reads
Flushed
There's an awful moment in any friendship when it becomes obvious that you no longer like each other. Pop quiz, hotshot. What do you do? 1. Call it a day
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- 5 comments
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- 2096 reads
wwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Ceroc are doing one of their nights again. Loud music is in the air.
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- 6 comments
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- 5550 reads
Auntie Em - what was it like when you grew up?
Mispent youths.
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- 9 comments
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- 2792 reads
Empathy
I pass him every morning. Come rain or shine. There he is. Cheerful. Always cheerful. Doffing his horrid little hat. In that unique grandiose manor of his. Once he even winked at me.
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- 4 comments
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- 1335 reads
The Coming of Age. December Part 3.
Christmas comes but once a year.
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- 4 comments
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- 1522 reads
Moonlight Sonata
Two men, in love, listen to the Moonlight Sonata.
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- 3 comments
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- 1702 reads
Where I belong
It was a bit of a nothing day I had been up and down the stairs looking after Jon (my husband) who was very poorly. The Doctor said it was a chest infection nothing too much to worry about
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- 2 comments
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- 994 reads
The Burned Out Citreon
It looked like an ancient relic. The rust and smell of fired petrol first assaulted your senses but underneath it, a mephitic odour lurked. It smelt as if someone had been burned alive in the car.
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- 4 comments
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- 1262 reads
End of days 2
I always hate the hour before a battle.
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- 6 comments
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- 2755 reads
The Coming of Age December Part 2.
Carol singing.
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- 5 comments
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- 1711 reads
Maladaptive Coping Behaviour
I slip away from everyone at the B&B and sneak down the beach road, bare-foot with sandals in hand, to the sand dunes for a sly cigarette.
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- 18 comments
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- 5258 reads
Blocked
The writer who can't write. The friend who can't stay awake during her mental breakdown. The laptop that is about to be destroyed. It's not an easy night for anyone.
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- 543 reads
Reunion
It's been ten years or more since we sat daily in the rebellious coffee shop, the three of us, school boys and laughing, full of caffeine and dreams to burst a world
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- 511 reads
1926 in Brazilian Football
Thursday This is not going to be a story about football. This is a story about frogs.
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- 4 comments
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- 1680 reads
The River that Drowned (I.P.)
(Edit 15/6/2010) ...inspired by China's "Three Gorges Dam Project" http://www.flickr.com/photos/wicks/3488452739/
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- 20 comments
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- 4587 reads
Harley4
they might actually get to Harley Street.
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- 7 comments
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- 1929 reads
Afternoon love song
Leave your politics, leave your pen, Leave your income tax return, Leave your ink and fax and turn - We're off to the hollows and hills. Hollows and hills, hollows and hills.
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- 5 comments
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- 1731 reads
The Guinea Thief - Chapter 14 Trial and Tribulation (Part One)
I have jumped a bit forward here, apologies for those who might be following the story. The gaps will be filled in soon.
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- 643 reads
Walking in wild wheat
under blue skies you walk barefoot through whistling wheat gold moments to wandering feet carressing quench of long stemmed pale green grasses grown from small seeds to tall towers
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- 6 comments
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- 1600 reads
Crazy Horse's Last Stand 1976
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- 6 comments
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- 1962 reads
Jumper
...living up there all the time, I can understand his unnatural urge to want to fly ...
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- 4 comments
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- 1327 reads
Days of Fish
Beach Cat crawled out from his rocky hollow to have a look around, out into the mist, into the sand, felt the moist grit under his paws, the salt air in his lungs, padded out towards the sea, barely m
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- 1 comment
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- 863 reads
A Man of Discretion
If a man is in need of a drink or two, it is not good form to appeal to a friend while carrying one in his hand.
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- 773 reads