Cherrypicked stories
On the brow of the hill
I saw him on the brow of the hill. He was as unfamiliar as my direction, but he interested me more than most,
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- 1948 reads
The Oak Lane Inn (Part Two)
No one at home when I tapped at the window He's deaf in the parlour but I didn't know then How he was framed by the shutters, the rafters, the blinds Fallen by flowers within the Oak Lane Inn
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- 581 reads
The Bitter, The Sweet.
A piece of nostalgic prosetry
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- 2154 reads
The Silence of Consequences
A pool of black blood gathered at the crook of her neck. Her face, lined with a diary of age, stared up at him with unseeing eyes. A tuft of her white hair clung to his fingers.
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- 725 reads
The Art of Hunting
Purlock is meant to be here, the same way Jim was meant to open this shop in the first place. Something has drawn them together more than coincidence or the sheer bloody closeness of the city.
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- 1296 reads
Another interesting way to die that I'll never experience
Thinking about being beheaded on the top step of Coba temple, a cab unhitched from its trailer, relieved of my freight, dropping a hundred and sixty epiphanies,
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- 2027 reads
A Little Dream of Me
I find myself cradling the pillows; they are pale with grief. They miss the caress of his hair, the brush of his stubble, and the way his snores sent waves across their welcoming bellies.
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- 3478 reads
The Pool
THE POOL A Short Story by Anthony R Mackie (©2008)
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- 786 reads
Absentee
A poem that can be read three ways, see if you can work it out.
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- 1048 reads
Troupers
For all those who think 'what you see is what you get' can exist outside of GUI. No it's not about computers!
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- 875 reads
Evening in Paris
I used to ask her where she went most every night. “To see a man about a dog,” was always her reply
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- 1421 reads
B B
Beth Builder At ten years old I knew her name was alliterative But that’s not why she’d give Me thrills when she passed my classroom windowsill
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- 1204 reads
Alfie
We always said the booze would kill him...
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- 534 reads
Sourdough for Sara
This poem is about the suffering endured on the Oregon Trail.
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- 589 reads
A woman counts alone in flat 33.
We have exhausted all the usual explanations. Too fast for days, hours, minutes, it is not time she measures; except in her own ageing face in the dark mirrored window.
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- 729 reads
Myth (A Modern Fable) Day 1 [Screenplay]
A film shot and cut in my head
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- 758 reads
Millimetres
Maybe a bit sappy? A short story of endless love and moving forward.
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- 1107 reads
Sticky Fingers, Pt 6. On The Road.
The narrator gets serious.
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- 2459 reads