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Four times a day,
we help you
get the words out.
Write in any genre in
300 words or less.
Hit publish.
Read. Be Read.
Write. Now.
I've bundled myself up in
Your promises.
They're such a comfort;
They hold me like an infant, and
I find myself
Lulled to peace, to sleep, (more)
We were walking among thousands, the wave of people heading towards the empty desert carrying us along at a pace that was too slow for me but almost too fast for her. I had tried to carry her, but the pack on my back prevented me from getting a(more)
Aunt Nancy wrote.

When I was little, Aunt Nance wrote poems about babies and little girls and ticking tocks. She never used computers or even lined paper. She wrote with an ink quill on parchment. Nance was a big believer in tradition.
When I was eight, Aunt Nance(more)
There was a small dog staring at me in the rain.

I stared back.

Its fur was flattened and soaked from the rain, making the dog shiverish and tinier than it should look. It just sat there, unmoving, staring at me while I stared at it. (more)
She stands at the edge of the doorway, shifting uneasily in her over-sized sweater. After an awkward moment of waiting for her to do... something, he reaches the correct conclusion that she probably wasn't going to actually start the conversation despite being the one to seek him out. So(more)
I didn't even think that people had attics like this. You know—full of dusty globes and thick volumes of near-ancient books and vintage wedding dresses.

Well, Miss Ettie has this kind of attic. As a little girl, I loved pushing the keys on the broken typewriter and piling(more)
my coat is so poofy i bet the aliens can see it up in space.

sara-beth's coat doesn't look like it's hiding balloons. oh no, sara-beth's coat is a simple and clean navy blue and is probably less than an inch thick because she has a nice an(more)
i have a habit
of warning people
against the cold
and ushering them
into layers upon
layers of jackets and (more)
i'm a big believer in the subconscious. The human mind is a remarkable thing and no matter what cynics want to believe it controls us.
My subconscious knows that I'm ugly. I want to be alone. I shy away at anyone's touch and a misdirected glance my way send(more)
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."  

What a lie.  

She learned the phrase when she was 6; great wisdom like that stuck to her heart like the A+ sticker on her spelling test - proud and condescending over the ignorance(more)
Jounrnal Entry 3/10/13

There lies Sam Carver.
Husband. Father. Psychopathic killer.
Don't RIP, you motherfucker.
Organization is supposed to be such an easy thing. Keep similar things together; everything in its place. Keep things stored in baskets and bins. Dispose of what you don't use any longer. Label things.
She was trying to go through her computer hardware. Hard enough for someone who didn't(more)
bundled up
are like my

inner hatred (more)
Bibia rose up against her oppressor: "You buffoon! How dare you insult me so! Have you any idea what is at stake?" she challenged him. "Obviously, kingdoms are not meant to be ruled by women, but that of which is before me is neither woman nor leader! It is(more)
This safety is almost exhausting. Bundled in the starlight of my preconceptions I'd be anything but grateful. Those god fearing men would rather be embraced by light and cooed to sleep. But, not I. I yearn for my flesh to be burned from the glow of bodies, and for(more)