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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 died with my eyes open. They closed them eventually, but before allowing me that simple dignity, they stripped it all away. My naked body was probed by dispassionate hands and examined by cool eyes. They pulled out my guts in slick, ropy strands and jammed in something else.(more)
The florescent light hummed from a few feet away as I reexamined the perforations in the ceiling tiles.  Two hundred twenty nine thousand, six hundred and eighty four.  The same number that had been there yesterday.  The same number that had been there a month ago.  A year ago.(more)
The first punch put me on my back. The second put me in A & E, my nose pointing in three different directions and my ribs trying to remember where to sit. In life we're always looking for signs, where we're going, what to do next. Well this little(more)
It always starts the same way. The coy introduction, the lingering glance over the top of your whiskey glass. The compliments. You say you like the dress, but we both know you mean my breasts. The aloof signal to the bartender for another round of drinks, stalling while you(more)
There was never a time in my short lived career that I regretted fucking Carol on my lunch hour. I only regretted that she was the bosses daughter.

Eleven hours ago, I will haver been on "leave of absence" for exactly 28 hours and 12 minutes. I do(more)
Lucy laid there, languishing in her lazy day. She loved it. There she was, on her back in the sea, just drifting off near the shore, when she fell asleep. Though she was on vacation, she apparently forgot to pack her slumber.
"So you're not going to help me up?"

"I'm standing here with a camera in my hand giggling to myself. I think the answer is obvious."

"Why?" (more)
It's the third of January and there are five donuts staring me in the face. I just ate a large amount of noodles and am sitting here not having the slightest idea of how I am going to spend my time. So I write... words. Down on the page,(more)
What frustrated me the most was not exactly what she had said, but the way that she had said it. No, that isn't true. I did hate the way she said it. I hated what she said. The more I learn about her, in fact, the more I start(more)
I carry him, always, on my back, a little to the left of my spine. He's a dark secret that I keep. Sometimes even I could forget about him, if it wasn't for the puckered skin that pinches and pulls and aches with the change of weather. I've found(more)
"The birds are out" he says sitting at edge of the bed, half naked looking out the bay window. "I hate birds" she scoffs, putting her clothes back on. The silence between them thickens like molasses, both drowning in questions neither one wants to ask. Finally, he speaks again.(more)
On my back lies the setting sun, just as the cries of the carrion birds can be heard, their cawing dinner bell signalling the end of the battle. The roars of men die down as each takes stock of those around them. The day is ours! I lift my(more)
SWEAT on my back
holdin a shitty knapsack
till the night turns black
hope where ever you at

that this day is beautiful (more)
"I was lying on my back staring up at the bright blue sky in the middle of a field of golden daffodils."

Kari snickered as she looked at the line in her word document. She had been reading far too much Wordsworth recently.... not that it was by(more)
I'm thrashing about turbulently on my springy mattress. Each time my back hits that canvas, I feel more powerless. The neighbors have learned well to tune out my primal wails and gasps. I should be better at this now. They say all you need is repetition. They say all(more)