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You remember the day you met that man called Jack as he came along and put his foot on the bench where you were sitting by the beach to tie
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And then Mrs Smallbridge calls you back again with that voice of hers that could sour milk and asks about the curtains in Master Henry’s Room whether they had been changed yet because he was due down later the following day a
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“The rosary moves between my finger and thumb,” said Sister Scolastica, “the prayers pressed and polished into the wood. Ebony wood, smooth worn by constant prayer and the feel of flesh. My mother’s fingers were worn to the b
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You see a blue tractor pushing through deep snow in a far away field and trees laced with the whiteness of the recent fall and ignoring the babble of voices behind you you peer up at the dull grey sky and the chill makes its
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Deranged girl your father said to any that’d listen as they called by the house or looked in referring to you but never to you or with you in conversation but to others who would gaze in your direction and shake their heads i
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Sister Ambrose closes the shutters at her window keeping the last of the light from the moon and stars shut outside in the cold and dark and standing back crossing herself from forehead to breast from shoulder to shoulder wit
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They said they were going to release you tomorrow from the asylum or so you heard from one of the nurses so be on your best behaviour she s
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He ran from the cemetary. Luckily, no one was there at that time to see. It had taken him months to dig his way out and he wasn't a pleasan
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You sit in a chair in the locked room staring at your reflection in the mirror taking in your eyes that stare back at you look at the nose the mouth the hair at the lost ness you see there and all the time downstairs the hum
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by Terry Collett
600 words, 2 comments,
on Jun 25 7:30 AM. In Adult, Asylum, Flash fiction, Girl, Locked ward, Love, Sex, Smokes, Story, Woman
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It was the year that Eddie changed for the worse the year Fay first heard Elvis on the radio singing some song about his mama and Eddie swi
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Your name always seemed to be the one on Sister Paul’s lips always your name Maggie that echoed along the corridor of the cloister if you h
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It was always a matter of what to wear and how to have your hair and what colour went with what and how would Edgar like it if you turned up too early with the wrong kind of clothes on or the hair not quite as he liked it may
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Brett said nothing not jackshit all evening his silence being some kind of punishment of his on Belle for his suspicion fuelled by neighbours that she and Ed were having some kind of affair behind his back while he was away o
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“What color is it, Maxi?” His Dad asked him that every time they went to the lake, plucking up one of the flowers that grew along the rim.
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The sound of noise from downstairs made you and Lorna sit up in the old bed and peer at the door as if it would provide answers to the ques
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Nuala lies in Una' s bed and against Una's soft breasts feeling the warmth permeate through her body knowing that Una was asleep as she cou
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It was a Monday evening, Jane had gotten home later than usual.
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She sat on the stainless steel table, waiting. It would be just a few moments now. It was coming. Thank God it was coming.1
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It was the smell that remained longest the smell of flesh burning of ash the sweet smell in the nostrils and the train and the long journey and close bodies too many so close and your mother and father and your sister Anne ne
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by Terry Collett
400 words, 3 comments,
on Apr 6 1:22 PM. In 1974, Adult, Flash fiction, Girl, Men, Mother stoned, Sex, Story, Summer
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Even on an evening like this with all the things going well and the good guy buying her drinks and taking her places she only dreamed of Ceili knew it couldn’t last she knew that it was all just one of those passing phases th
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Your mother’d bought Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band that year and you had played it loud while she and your father were out in town
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Sister Joan stood by the window, looked out at the cloister. Empty. No one there. A few leaves flittered over the grass of the cloister gar
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After the bless me father for I have sinned entrance words you are stumped momentarily and look around the darkened space of the confession
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You stand by the cloister garth and see that the flowers are out and the tree is filled with birds and that pleases you as does the sight o
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You withdraw the rosary from your inner pocket and hold it in your hand and gaze at it taking in the cross with the Christ in black ebony and the way He lies there in your hand his eyes closed and his arms out stretched and h
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A little fall of rain won't hurt.
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Once an old star loses its spark and falls, in due time another would replace the fallen one.
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sweet yesterday, how you've kept me so naive.
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dear decay; what a pretty thing when dressed in white.
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It's that time of year again. The time when a bunch of men head to a field to play with their balls...
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You’ve all seen me. I’m on your shelf, with an arm wrapped around your kid, giving the camera two thumbs up. My always-smiling face. My eyes. They look so familiar even though you can’t quite place them. And go ahead. Show a
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I pushed away from the computer and went to refill my coffee cup. My hands trembled as I tore open another pink packet of artificial sweetener and I swore that I’d buy decaf the next time I went shopping. Fortified, I settled
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300-Words or Less Flash Fiction. A good-natured poke at my beloved Southern roots.
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A 300-Words or Less Flash Fiction Winner
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A 300-Words or Less Flash Fiction Contest Winner
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A 300-Words or Less Flash Fiction Contest Winner.
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At the end of the world, one business is still going strong.
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‘I got my money’s worth’, she thought, looking over at her again. Shayla needed a guard and with this six foot amazon woman barring the wa
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