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I wonder if the panhandle feels smothered. Or tired, or squeezed, or concentrated, or something else entirely. What it's like to be that odby chintzy faberge 300 words, 17 comments, on Oct 24 7:53 PM 2007. In
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Two cups of mustard stood ominously on the grimy counter, partially blocking out the setting sun. The elder, an old crusty cup of mustard n
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The first thing that I hate, or, rather, the thing that I hate that is currently at the forefront of my thoughts is how much I hate this st
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Hope was an actress by fate. Most children, when they are asked what they want to be when they grow up, are able to imagine anything and ev
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The porch's planks have long since twisted and splintered with age and lack of care. They are visited now by an old man and an older rockin
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He stiffened imperceptibly as her grip tightened at the front of his shirt. They had been watching the sunset from his roof for a while wheby chintzy faberge 1000 words, 41 comments, on Oct 14 2:22 PM 2007. In Words
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I'm chasing the gravel road in front of me at a pace I don't normally even start with. My legs are cold and prickle with heat, with contrasby chintzy faberge 500 words, 5 comments, on Aug 10 12:32 PM 2005. In <200 lines, Fiction, Other, Romance
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The cantapede hula-d across the Texan tundra-a hideous consequence of a certain Bio II class experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong-a cantaloupe, centipede creature that coul
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I saw him look at me, through all the chaos in the hot, sweaty room. I was half watching the band screaming through their set and half watching him get tossed around against th
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