"Well shit, that didn't work," the conductor said.

He walked around the wreckage, pulling out passengers. Women, mostly. The men waved off his advances.

One gloriously attired woman emerged from a smoldering welt of torn metal as though she were departing at Poughkeepsie. Nary a scratch or displaced hat-feather.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on," the conductor thought. What he said was, "Ma'am."

The day was still high above them, children kicking rocks along the tracks. The conductor scratched under his hat and wondered, well what the hell now?

A man sitting in the...

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There's somebody standing in the corner of my room. He just stands there in diffused light - brooding and making no noise.

Oddly enough, he makes no attempt at escaping. Perhaps its because I stapled him to the dresser drawer as he had refused to have his picture taken.
He looks so much better in person anyway...

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She was the most delicate girl in town. But looks could be deceptive. Ruth knew he was somewhere in the house. Unfamiliar surroundings would make it difficult for easy location of prey, but that wouldn't delay the inevitable. She was as confident as she could be that no help would come. The old place was too isolated; one of its charms. Ironically, it was what had attracted her to the place. The appeal of sole occupation. Nothing to disturb her work.

Fortunately, she'd made it to the Kitchen and its drawers of sharp, clean, very clean knives. Ms. (note the...

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We speared our forks on the tablecloth stained with soy and spice and duck sauce as the waiters took the picked-over "Chinese" dinners from our sight. The restaurant catered to American tour groups whose beef and corn tastes fall too unrefined for authentic foreign dishes and who long to travel thousands of miles just to conjure a memory from the hole in the wall Taiwan Garden down the end of Mulberry Street, across from the courthouse.
As our servants sprinkled the remains of our feast in the dumpster like fish food to the swarm of street children eager for their...

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1882 by Qner

When the father arrived home to his squalid, Lower East Side tenement building, he was exhausted. He paused at the door to pose for a Jacob Riis photo, and then trudged though the entryway. The grit of coal from the furnace in the oil refinery still covered his face. This, despite the fact that we worked on the docks hauling fish. His apartment was in the rear of the building: a cramped, filthy space overlooking a pile of rubbish that the realtor had described as a “quaint fixer-upper with a partial city view.” He approached the door, removed a rat...

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I remember the smell of wet snow on a blinding morning. Squinting through glare and steam. Battleship twigs wobble in a frozen puddle. The neighbor's bell-bottoms dark blue to the knees. She sank in a soft mountain of snow, but extracted herself with the confident strength of the Bionic Woman.

The crows were flying silhouettes, Japanese ink on a rice paper landscape. The country was preparing for our spectacle. There would be battleships in the harbor, fireworks from the torch, old songs that would not die.

But on this day, in the insulation of a winter morning, we weren't thinking...

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Gradually, that was how the world where it was okay to be a geek, a fangirl, a dork, herself, came into being.

It started with an acquaintance who knew the animated series who became a best friend.

It grew with a sister who accepted everything and opened her eyes to new worlds.

But it finally became real to her when she met him, the boy who pushed her fringe out of her eyes and led her onto the dance floor when she was sad. Who had moved closer in the fog and who had taken her hand without asking. The...

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"Travel light, but take everything with you," he said, his sky eyes looking off into the distance, "you never know when everything will leave you."
I suppose it didn't matter to me anymore, whether or not i took my life with me. there wasn't much there, really, just pieces of broken hearts and crystal tears that hit the floor. His words still echoed through my hollow body, the remains of bones crumbling beneath every sorry heaving breath. "Why wasn't I good enough?" I had asked myself, but I never knew. Perhaps it wasn't me....Perhaps it was you. Perhaps it was...

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Nightmare. The officers had never seen anything like it. Rushing from the house they vomited not caring who could see. Ryan, only a week on the job, knew this career choice was over.

Nightmare. Samantha Walters did not know where to begin. As a psychic employed secretly by the force, she volunteered her services for his job even though the circumstances were the most horrific she had ever heard about. She did not last the day.

Nightmare. The neighbours all decided to sell up.

Nightmare. The police chief discussing the case had a nervous breakdown.

Nightmare. The photo journalists first...

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“We were thrown overboard, casted onto the waters left to our demise! They captured us, tortured our very souls mercilessly with wicked demands! ”

“No, I saw you guys, you had parachutes, and falling in the water were totally your own fault.”

“But we were held hostage, left in a God-forsaken tower all tied up with (mostly) nothing to eat or drink! Only when rays of the forgotten sun poked through the crevices of the sturdy wooden door, were we forcefully fed with the remains of frogs and sour wine!”

“Oh, you mean the balcony? Isn’t access to the torch...

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