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Write in any genre in
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I am a professional fisherman, very rich if not famous, and now, after a long time anguishing over things, I can finally admit it:  I hate myself.  What follows is a kind of suicide note.  But let me back up a little.  
It was the time of evening when the sun caused shadows to stretch long in the last call of yellow light. It was the hour when fathers arrived home from work, although around here the only fathers had either been home all day, or were gone for good. (more)
One half of one percent.  That's how much return I was going to get on my investment with Mr.  Shrade. If could collect, it would set me up for life.  But I had to buy into my share of the stakes first, and not with cash.  Mr. Shrade had some work for me(more)
Rosemary pulled back on the control yoke and the machine paused in midair, the wind buffeting its sides as she lowered it carefully onto the landing pad.  Once landed, she powered the engines down and removed her helmet, her long blonde hair reflecting like water the red glow of the(more)
I held my father's hand with its big, grown-up fingers as tightly as a five-year-old could.  The man in the moon took no notice as we passed through a gap in his giant smile on our way to board one of the little rocket ships that was going to take(more)
Another person of color was killed by a police officer
This time, it is a friend
It's an unusually beautiful summer day when I get the call
The sick juxtaposition terrifies me even more. (more)
The Ballemere was looking for a new bartender. My boss Lance told me so.  

Deanna had rifled the till. Fired! That slut. And MaryJane (that fucking slut) had gone and had a baby. And so he was desperate. Or so he explained in a weary sort of monologu(more)
Douglas arrived home from school at the usual time.  On his way to his room, he passed his mother seated in her easychair.  Her favorite soap, "Folly's Ransom", was holding her attention while her fingers twirled a set of knitting needles in slow, practiced loops.

"Did you have a good(more)
"Can I - uh." He holds his breath for a minute like always. I know what this means, he's gonna ask me something really serious. He inhales, holds it,  and then blows it out after shrugging to get the tension out. I know what's coming... and this is gonna suck.(more)
He stares down at his drink, stirring it mindlessly with his straw. "So--do you think..."
"Yes?" you say instinctively. You watch him, his eyes uncomfortably shifting away, trying to find anything else to look at besides you. The steam from your latte warms your face, and you wrap your(more)
I never would have realized my place in the universe if it weren't for Beth Francis. She moved through life like a lithe serpent whose scales shimmered in the contours of beautiful sinew, her words dripped from her tongue like divine providence, and she seemed to me a seamless(more)
Why is it that creativity follows tragedy: a demon waiting to pounce? Why are creative minds plagued with crippling thoughts and voices refusing to be drowned out? Why, why, why! I suppose I will never now until creativity kills me.
  The head of the homicide department stood in front of the room of gathered detectives, his brow creased in its habitual way.

  "The score is precisely this:  six prostitutes have turned up dead within a span of two weeks.  All of them stabbed through the right eye with a p(more)
Glaring eyes
Rolling dies
Life goes on
Far too long
For this condescending guise
To become my demise.
I feel tired and lazy.  The weekend at work proved frantic.  Much money changed hands, and I helped grease the wheels.  I got annoyed, too, by the pecking order, and other insults.  For example, there are only two computers that aren't attached to cash registers, so I had to wait my (more)