My first foray into the Woot Shirt Derby. I have been meaning for a while to make another one, but the subject never really inspires me.
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The Hemlock Chronicles
The Hemlock Chronicles (PDF) A series of short stories about a most interesting topic. Started when the first one came to mind, and it just kinda flowed out from there. I almost forget when I exactly wrote this. I want to say near the end of high school.
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Damaged World
Damaged World (PDF) A idea I came up with a bit ago. I thought up a much more grand story, but I feel really good about what actually came out. I like the feel of it as it is. I am content with this for now, even if its just…
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Dancing
Dancing (PDF) A story I wrote for a writing class in College. I don’t remember if there was a specific topic or theme…
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Water Damage
Water Damage (PDF) A short story I wrote for class. It started as a story about the confessor, but I realized that was kinda cliche, so I went to the head of the Pastor and an echoeing story. I tried keeping things slight and subtle.
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Death and Summer Vacation
I: Church Lied: Hell is an ’87 Suburban merged with Arizona summer. Brimstone air, tar for seats. My own personal demon, my sister, Fangs with braces, an inhuman scream The guide said is was over a mile deep. Carved over millions of years by one nagging river. I wonder about…
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She Needed the Voice of God
Zipporah with a zippo trying forever to spark the dried brush of a man. An Egyptian man, the kind with connections. How can her meager mounds compare with the pyramids? Her eye lashes match the great palms of the Nile? Her floods aren’t as deep and her hands are more…
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Little Things
A book of metal binding Holds three pictures, sometimes six All the faces smiling They didn’t live through this The edges, they are blackened From the smoke, not from the heat These are the survivors of the fire of 16th street My mother and my father In black tux and…
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What to do with you?
The chill is drawn Around him like a swimming pool Feet first, then straight to spine A late March snowstorm Drip plopping to the roads Rain or Snow? Happy or leftover Chinese? Left in the fridge, congealed. Complacent in its grease.
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Twitching
My father was always a fan of wall socket justice The way to live was to stick a penny in and twitch a little Shards of cookie jar couldn’t break his smile over my mastery of the kitchen chair, a bucket and a stick “Need a longer stick.” He laughed…