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"Nice sunburn," says One in the Afternoon, smirking. "How's Noon?"
There's something indescribably off about him, and I can't
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"God, it just drives me crazy, you know?" says One in the Morning.
I nod as if I do, in fact, know.
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Famine came a-knocking
On the widowed mother's door,
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A little-known piece of history.
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You are not the sort
To sleep away lifetimes
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[Static.]
[Female voice, strained. Age approximated at 25 years:]
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When you told me that you'd vanish, I didn't think literally - but in that instant
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Sleepers marching soundless
'cross the soft shores of the Dark
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"Welcome to Hell" says the sign above the doorframe, spitting bursts of red neon out into the rising dark.
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This is not a story, just a collection of some common errors that keep showing up to torment me. Please, avoid them!
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Some thoughts on the genre and why it deserves a second chance.
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I watch the mountains gorging themselves on the crisp morning air, see the mist creep, creep, creeping in, low and loud beneath the radar,
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One, two, three, those crooked blackbirds
Four, five, gathering still more
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So, perhaps it was preposterous. That was what almost everyone had said, after all. But she liked the sound of the word. "Preposterous" - it sounded fun. Like something worth being, at any rate - and so, if learning to fly wa
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I wish they hadn’t told me.1
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Dolven had once been a fairly prosperous city, but that, of course, was before the zombies came.
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Just for the record, I’m listing these in no particular order =)1
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She remembered the end. Feeling strangely cold, and, all of a sudden, small. Feeling, more than anything else, alone. Desolate and silent.
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The imaginaries say that there are things That only they can teach me
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If you are hitting bottom, then there is no where else to go but up.
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There is a place that the world goes in winter, and we are not allowed to follow. The warmth and the light and the color go out, and we are
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It was not a pleasant night to be out. Rain and shafts of lightning filled the dark skies, and if those weren’t enough to drive folk indoor
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Those noises you always hear at night - perhaps they're only the house creaking. Or perhaps not.
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It's just one of those days.
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A quick poem about mothers and the things we leave behind.
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He was standing out in the field, amidst the falling, blinding snow.
I was taking the back way home, a shortcut of sorts, and th
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A dash of fairy tale, a splash of fantasy, and an awful lot of mud.
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Feathers swirling, circling ever Higher, higher
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Honesty is a virtue, yes?
(at least, that's what everyone says)
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I came home late from cleaning, and I knew he was already there from the pickup in the drieway and the ash on the doorstep. By the time I w
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It was summer, and in the truest sense. It wasn’t calendar leaves or passing numbers or June 21st that made it so; it was something in the
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Mr. Edwin Dreyley was in the height of his youth at age twenty-one, happily married, and distinguishing himself nicely at the law office fo
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Sometimes he wonders why he's here.
It's not that the gun's too heavy, or the pack too much to shoulder. He's used to them by now. Th
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I've been thinking a bit about Pain, and I noticed something.
Almost everyone spends a good deal of time avoiding Pain. This, I think, is
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