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Four times a day,
we help you
get the words out.
Write in any genre in
300 words or less.
Hit publish.
Read. Be Read.
Write. Now.
before the battle
Nothing exists that cannot be made to hurt.  We are excellent at engineering this hurt in ourselves and in others. We can flay a loved one's words and lay them bare, style the flesh of them into loathing, odium, disgust. And-- perhaps most impressive-- we can lie to ourselves in(more)
For your love, I will give you a flowerpot. A vessel of emptiness for which the geas is upon you to fill, to tend, to nurture, to bring something to grow. Your love will not change the fact of the flowerpot. For your love, you may plant roses, you(more)
There is a bubbling in the glass
And it’ll ooze through you
coursing like a term spread
over the horizon of the night
twisting the blood
turning the DNA (more)
The man stepped down from his palanquin. Clean bare feet fell gracefully on soft, dark soil.  

There was no dirt under his fingernails. Obviously wealthy, but he looked keen. In truth, he'd lived in the capital his whole life. But his tutors raised him well. He knew tha(more)
Keith walked into the galley to see Lance and Pidge huddled around the island in the center, staring at something with a burning intensity. Lance had his arms folded and had all his attention on whatever it was they were staring at, so Keith shrugged and walked over, draping(more)

Keith broke out at a run, past Lance, and straight into Shiro's arms. Shiro's hair had grown long and unkempt, the trailing ends tied into a loose tail that vanished into the thick material of his cloak. He wore a week's worth of scruff on his face(more)
I thought when I came out of the mountains I'd be a whole new guy, but instead I was just the same with a few photographs in tow. Memory baggage.

The idea that you can run away and become someone new has become bullshit to me. The traumas,(more)
Cindy tapped her foot as she crossed her arms. John  had halted, his eyes fixated on a small building with a sign positioned next to an open door.

They ate the stale doughnuts that used to be encompassed in a perfect soft glaze that made the doughnut better but was now just a hard disk of sugar. They washed this down with coffee, not sweet coffee, not rich coffee, just coffee with a 1:1 ratio of water(more)
She looked over her shoulder, no one was near.
It's time to do it.
teh tipo
It was sent, a malicious file entering the systems of many.
Digging into their misspelt futures, prying open their shells of idiocy.
Every single typo in the world was collected, arranged to form(more)
You say it was just a typo
A little slip of the tongue
Well news flash honey
Sometimes that's enough
To bring everything toppling down.
The reading was off.  The altimeter indicated we were cruising just above sea level, but it had to be bad data, since minutes before I had flown over the last of the mountains that flanked the entrance to the bay.  That meant I had to be flying at least  5000 ft.  I pressed(more)
Rose, who was our mom, came to our house one time during Christmas. I remember a car outside pulling up and there being a change in the room and the way that everyone acted. I remember having to say hello and then a time later...when I was outside and(more)
The sugar bowl at the dinner table
Is pure hypocrisy.
There is no sweetness there
And there never will be.
Only cold faces
Stuck in their stone-faced masks of disapproval. (more)
"You have to get an A in showmanship or graduation will not be possible Mr. Klask", Richard Nugget repeated for what seemed like the 50th time to me.

"Showmanship" he insisted, "Is the core to success!"