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Skin like white typing paper. Blue veins shouting from a thin layer of translucent flesh, pulsing from aqua to purple. Eyes as ambivalent as the sky on a hazy, sunny day.

From the moment of her birth, she wore layer upon layer of cotton. At first, her parents simply wrapped…

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The tree had been struck by lightning several times a year for decades.

Or, so that’s what everyone in the town said.

Limbs gnarled and roots craggy, weaving into and around each other, rocks and animal bones swallowed into its timber, it had the presence of a great fighter, confident…

dark door with keys hanging from the lock a shadowy figure in the back
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As dawn’s light began to seep in below the door, her stomach churned. Freedom was all too brief.

Every night, time wound down quicker than the night before. Every day, time crept slower than the day before. …

Photo by SSchremp

Meth was the best thing to happen to homemade hemorrhoid cream since hemorrhoids were invented, Aunt T’d proclaim time and again as she crushed tiny, red pills with her pestle. Meth and Kim K.

Before meth, that real pseudo-ephedrine was easy to come by. But no one could get the…

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The air began to soften, filling the room with a glorious tingling that put everyone at ease. Perhaps a shared hallucination or maybe the presence of otherworldly beings, none were ever sure. …

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

When they met, she did that thing — Lacey was smoking back then and she pulled out a cigarette and, while she searched the bar for a lighter, Chris came out of nowhere and lit it. …

Image by edtribo from Pixabay

The balls spun, twirled, whirled, and drifted down to land, a yellow one in a gull’s mouth, the others resting on the bottom. Inez pushed the fat, white button again, bubbles gurgled upward into the water, sending the balls pirouetting haphazardly toward the gulls.

“Inez!” Sandra yelled. “Enough, already! It’s…

Photo by lalesh aldarwish from Pexels

Back in the day, not so long ago, there was this place: it was called the closet.

All the boys who loved boys and girls who loved girls and those who loved people and boys who were actually girls and girls who were actually boys and boys and girls who…

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“Psychopaths have it easy,” she said.

Steve spit out his coffee in a snort, “What the hell do you mean? How is being a psychopath an ‘easy’ thing?”

“They don’t feel guilt,” she snarked, emphatically shoveling a bite of pie into her mouth. “I’m thinking about becoming one.”

Blueberries dancing…

Photo by Ioana Cristiana on Unsplash

The shutters were green. Like grass. No. More like the color of a landscaper’s truck. Two were barely holding onto the flaking rose-painted siding. The front screen door, that kept flapping open and half-heartedly whacking shut, was the same color as those shutters. She hated that shade of green. …

A. Gabriel

writer looking for a home for my words — a place to stretch my typing skills, hone my use of the thesaurus, & learn from the community.

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