writers_anon
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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Story | Our Daughters' Teeth | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Seasonal Effects | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Too Much | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Undercover | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Separate | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Miscarriage | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Mouse | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Shared breath | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Passage | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Time, You Say&;#063; | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Pantomime | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Orchard | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | My Balloons and Bandages | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Seasonal Effects | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Red Herring | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Party Animal | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | The death of a lover ........ | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Playing With Fire | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Lying So Close | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Sons and Lovers | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | I, Iraqi | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Hand Grenades and Horseshoes | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Imagining a milk which has not gone sour | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Instruction | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Impuissant | writers_anon | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
My stories
From Sun to Shadow
Picking through the bones of our affair nobody could guess that these once were fleshed with dreams, aglow with aureoles. All through that autumn,...
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- 590 reads
Digital
Like the sleepwalker who keeps his door key in a bowl of cold water so the very act of reaching for it will wake him, I have drowned all memory of...
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- 967 reads
I, Iraqi
I stand beside the Tree where Adam stood, and watch the infants running in the blood that trickles down from buildings wracked by bombs which...
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- 667 reads
Miscarriage
Submission under 'Reunion' theme
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- 623 reads