January 2013 – Our Write Side

She said she loved the train. In the next breath, she said she loved me. Odd that we were on the wrong side of the train to catch it. If she really loved the train, she would have made sure we were on the right side, but we weren’t. Look. I’m getting repetitious already. She…

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Her tears fell, single, soundless, on the stone beneath her knees, weeping for her son. “A few good men” flickered in her mind. He was good, one of the few. He enlisted early, at seventeen. “The proud, the few, the Marines.” He was all of that and more. He didn’t even graduate before they called…

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Accountability. That is a scary word. Seriously. Life is full of accountability, and I like to beat myself up. I would prefer to just flow along in a rubber tube, ruffling no feathers, quietly existing, and no accountability, but I have to be realistic. That rubber tube still gets used but not nearly as often…

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Morphine makes me weightless, airborne. Codeine makes me heavy, grounded. When I don my little red riding cape, it makes me invincible, immortal. I’m a little Red, hopping down the bunny trail. Over the river, through the woods, to the house made of gingerbread I go. Hansel and Gretel got nothing on me. Morphine makes…

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Life’s a freight train without brakes lately. Let’s try something new. Use this picture to inspire you to write. Share the link to what you wrote in the comments.

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Today I’m five. My grandfather says five is a lucky number, but I’m not sure I believe him. The first four were nothing special, just your run of the mill state mandated executions. In fact, the gurney in the room next door gets more business than I do, what with lethal injection considered “humane.” I…

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My breath snuffed, my heart stopped, I hover between time and space. My four-legged life over, I wait minutes until I emerge, squalling and screaming, under bright lights, my new human life begun. This weekend’s Trifextra assignment was simple: Rebirth in 33 words. Mission accomplished. Please leave your thoughts, as they are much appreciated, in…

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I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. It’s not what you think though. I’m not in a house or an apartment. I’m not in anything anyone would consider habitable. I’m sitting in one of those large metal sinks you’d find in a restaurant, used for cleaning dishes. There are three compartments and I am…

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It’s time to restart the Fab Four Fables my friend Eric Storch of Sinistral Scribblings started last month. This time it was my turn to start. I will tag one of 3 others-Eric Storch, David Wiley, or Shannon Potts–at the bottom of this post, along with the rules we are following this time around. Title:…

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