MistakenMagic

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryConversation With My Thirteen-Year-Old Self MistakenMagic912 years 10 months ago
StoryComing Home MistakenMagic1912 years 10 months ago
StoryClean Slate MistakenMagic1212 years 10 months ago
StoryCaptive MistakenMagic2312 years 10 months ago
StoryBody Language MistakenMagic1712 years 10 months ago
StoryBlossoming MistakenMagic2312 years 10 months ago
StoryBlock MistakenMagic1712 years 10 months ago
StoryBittersweet MistakenMagic012 years 10 months ago
StoryBirds, Bees and Butteflies MistakenMagic1212 years 10 months ago
StoryBefore I say I Love You MistakenMagic812 years 10 months ago
StoryBeauty? MistakenMagic112 years 10 months ago
StoryBad Writing Prize (Inspiration Point) MistakenMagic1312 years 10 months ago
StoryAnything to Forget MistakenMagic012 years 10 months ago
StoryAnticipation MistakenMagic3212 years 10 months ago
StoryAnniversary MistakenMagic2612 years 10 months ago
StoryAnd Other Acts of Masochism MistakenMagic1412 years 10 months ago
StoryAn Insomniac's Dawn MistakenMagic2412 years 10 months ago
StoryAmnesia MistakenMagic3212 years 10 months ago
StoryAlways Summer MistakenMagic2212 years 10 months ago
StoryAlors, On Danse MistakenMagic2612 years 10 months ago
StoryAftermath MistakenMagic1212 years 10 months ago
StoryAfter You MistakenMagic4812 years 10 months ago
StoryAcceptance MistakenMagic1412 years 10 months ago
StoryAbomination MistakenMagic1712 years 10 months ago
StoryA Study in South Street MistakenMagic1912 years 10 months ago

My stories

Cherry

Espresso Martini

"a triangle of black ice with an archipelago of coffee beans dotted across its thin layer of cream. A small miracle of vodka and coffee combined - I hold it aloft like the Holy Grail."
Cherry

Requiem

It hits me every time I come back: the smell of his soap in the bathroom.
Cherry

Epigraph

Now the days are as sunny as peanut butter, but I stay inside watching re-runs of Blackadder, because I loved Captain Kevin Darling before I loved you.
Cherry

Don Paterson Didn't Eat His Venison

I bake her a tray of shortbread and tell her the more explicit version of ‘The Secret Life of Dragonflies’ to try and take her mind off the poisonous, unwanted orb swelling in her side.
Cherry

My Bookcase, 4am

Marie de France's 'Bisclavret' howls at the moon like a wolf. 'The Assistant' mutters to itself in Yiddish. The window is full to the brim with stars, and poems rise up like unanswered prayers.

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