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Ruminations by Jim Heynen

The rabbit has not told me what her schedule is, but there she is on the backyard lawn every time I step out the door.  Nothing remarkable about her.  If you’ve seen one cottontail, you’ve seen them all. 

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Five Prose Poems by Nin Andrews

Duplicity after Henri Michaux “Simplicity” When I was just a young thing, my life was as simple as a sunrise. And as predictable. Day after day I went about doing exactly as I pleased. If I saw a lovely man or women, or beauty in any of its shapes and forms and...

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After the Fall by Sherrie Flick and Sam Ligon

Twilight in the garden. Rudy rubbed the tomato plant leaf nearest him and did not call Elaine. Elaine was with Donnie now and Donnie was a philistine, Donnie was a thief. “Donnie came to my house,” Rudy said out loud, “and stole a leg of beef.” Jesus—was it possible...

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The Girl In Purple by Bobbie Ann Mason

Near dawn, Dennis Moore saw the iron gate to the courtyard inch open and the wisp of a girl squeeze through, clanging the gate behind her. Two minutes later, on the boardwalk, she halted as if for an invisible dog, then resumed her dog-walker gait. He followed her...

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Hermit & Bleeding Faucet by Ana María Shua

With the population now well aware of the physical and mental benefits of asceticism (low cholesterol, bradycardia, a delicate sense of happiness, spiritual fulfillment), everyone wants to become a hermit.

The Girl In Purple by Bobbie Ann Mason

Near dawn, Dennis Moore saw the iron gate to the courtyard inch open and the wisp of a girl squeeze through, clanging the gate behind her. Two minutes later, on the boardwalk, she halted as if for an invisible dog, then resumed her dog-walker gait. He followed her...

Fun House by Robert Scotellaro

She’d gotten the fun house mirrors at an auction and had them put up in the spare bedroom.

Little Red Riding Hood by Katerina Kishchynska

Grandma gets her episodes at least once a month. She’ll grow out her jaws and if it happens on a rainy day, claws will tear out of her fingers.

Conversation in Hotel Lounge by Lydia Davis

Two women sit together on the sofa in the hotel lounge, bent over and deep in conversation.  I am walking through, on my way to my room.

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