The conversation lasted two words: 'Come on.'

She couldn't refuse. His large, blue eyes pleaded with her and as he held out his hand, she smiled and took it. He lead her into the garden and down the narrow path flanked by roses on one side and neat lawn on the other. The sun was beating down on the top of their heads, and he started to run, pulling her along. She started to laugh.

They reached the very spot, and he pointed solemnly. Lisa bent slowly, tucking her grey skirt beneath her carefully to stop herself toppling over. The...

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He ran in the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet. A man was sitting across the room in a fat leather chair, the kind you see CEOs with. His back to the sopping boy.
The boy stood panting with his back against the door, his eyes closed and his head tilted at the ceiling. "S-sorry. I ran into some trouble on the way here."
With every drop of water that landed on his carpet the man cringed. He could hear it ruining the material. He took a deep breath, "Please, have a seat."
With complete disregard for...

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Balanced on the line, he told her again, "Put it down!"

Regan the vampire could not move closer. For the first time in his long life, he was powerless. The girl tricked him by her unnatural beauty into drinking the potion. Standing on the narrow path dividing the graveyard he could feel his life ebbing away before she had even touched him with the metal spear. He prayed to his god, unanswered as he predicted.

Just before she pierced his heart she whispered 'I love you but I have to let you go'.

He took his last breath and inhaled...

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She sang like a ghost in a fog.
Dew on the saxophones,
Rain on the drum kit.

The napkin read,
"Remember, it's the 1900's."

It was always almost dawn,
never fully light.

The fog never lifted,
the ghost always whispered.

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"And these words were brought to you by..."

Remember hearing that at the end of the six o'clock news? Elise wasn't sure if she were actually old enough to have heard it. Somehow though it had found its way into her vernacular. Wondering about paid endorsements seemed to be a much better topic then men lately. However the concept of the phrase was soon to bring on a revelation.

Later that night Elise met up with the girls to blow off some steam. After a few drinks a tall, gorgeous guy who went by, "Nick" approached. And as she half-heartedly...

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"Wait, so he hit you?"

"Girl, yes! And do you know what else?"

Amber was now at the edge of her seat. "You better tell me, girl."

Quanta proceeded to pop her gum as she said, "Girl, yes. He hit me, and had the nerve to tell me that I deserved it! Can you believe that madness?"

Amber's neck should have popped from the force of her head falling back. "Oh, no he didn't!"

"I know!" Quanta rolled her eyes. "He said I deserved it, because dinner wasn't ready when he got home. What kind of mess is that?"

"Sound...

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Hush the forest. Hush where the bear was, the deer have been downed. Hush my screaming heart.

In the kitchen where I am carried after my father's death, I ask for one shortbread cookie filled with jam as my mother Connie smiles around like the carousel she is of feelings. I want to sit in the dark corner and think about the bear mauling him. My father Claus, lying on the needles and still.

I ran into the woods and Meryl knocked me out. Unintentionally, I was fighting him as I would a bear. He cried onto my suede, he...

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Mannequin legs hanging from the wall. Nailed by the heels, they create the effect of being suspended in space. I don't know why I did it, but somehow, they comfort me being there, detached from all body and context, the pink ballet shoes seamlessly blending into the leggings and the beige wall. This is my world, this is the inside of my mind - a single flat line, drab, unstimulating. Seeing more vibrant colors, seeing the artificiality of "beauty," seeing a well-crafted world - nothing makes me more angry. My nothing is a word unto itself.

Ben and Jessica are...

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The Americans landed as planned. Somewhat off course, one of them, Jon from the Bronx recognized the farmhouse. "It's Helena's" he said breathing out, relieved. "anyone got a smoke?" he said smiling and looking around quickly at his buddies.

"Are you shitting? this woman's a spy and God knows who's in there with her. Ten to one there's Germans", said the Captain snapping the Camel right out of Jon's mouth. He grinned and the Captain motioned for four of his men to advance.

In the window, Helena seemed angelic. The man at her feet was indeed very blond, the men...

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I was an optimist. I thought that I, like Hemingway, could weave my influence between countries, live in the welcoming limbo between a government I believed in and one that spoke my language. I stopped trying to return to the United States thirty years ago. I am an airplane steward now. Sometimes I write in imperfect Spanish for a newspaper named after a boat named after a nameless elderly woman half a century dead. I believe every word I write. I am happy.

But the days I spent in the narrow land come back to me every day. They knew...

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