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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.
Every few months, I feel the need to dump out my room like a night-stand junk drawer, purging it of everything but the essentials. It gets depressing when I don't keep up with it. Kind of like a graveyard for failed plans and unrealized dreams.
we aren’t strangers

but you still burn your smile into my forehead,
like you did that first day.

i did not want to meet you then (more)
----- this is -----. ----- this is -----.

Nice to meet you.
And you. So...blah blah blah

Thinking ~ (more)
Trembling fingers around the stem of a cold wine glass, I cautiously observed you from under my fringe. You laugh loudly, lost in the anecdote your companion was telling, you're the life of the room.

You fascinate me, I've never seen anyone move as gracefully as you do,(more)
"Oh hey!" she said. "This is my friend from back home, Kate. And this is my boyfriend, Jay. Now, someone pass the chips!"
Jay called it 'the introduction' when he remembered it many years later. It was over in a few seconds but it changed everything.
For the res(more)
An embryonic smile forming under yellow seafoam waves of cells and bellies. A dehydrated mouth of a mother who wraps her hair with twine and scrubs a floor with pine. Her fetal dreams aborted at the sight of a plus sign. Blistered hands scrub away doubt as the bump(more)
Here I am today, in front of my parents. I need to tell them. I know they will never be ok with that, but I don't care. I cannot hide it anymore. I'd prefer to never talk to them, but know that they know than see them everyday, but(more)
"I'd like to introduce you to my friend." Bob said.
"I don't even know you." Said the man.
"That's okay. I don't even this guy."
The first time we met
I forgot
For a moment with you
As you step through the doors into the club, you are hit in the face with a billowing cloud of smoke and alcoholic vapours.

The doorman looks at you expectantly. You slip a few credits into his palm as you bend down to whisper.

"I'm here for(more)
Henry--or the Blackbird, as he's called on these midnight escapades--pries open the window. It's suprisigly easy to open, considering the disuse of this wing of the house. He doesn't even have to try, like it was left open. Henry crawls in, stepping on the cushioned windowsill. No dust explodes(more)
She saw him staring, a distant look in his eyes, a small smile sitting on his face. He was looking at her, as if she was the most amazing woman in the world, as if she had blown him away...

That couldn't have been true, though. That almost(more)
When you first meet him, he holds out his hand stiffly. He doesn't really seem to be looking at you, but rather at the spot just above your left shoulder. You get the urge to stand on tippy-toes so that you can meet his eye. You smile. He smiles(more)
A blank, white box
framed in gold;
an invitation to begin,
to continue, to fill it up
with words.
I remember meeting all these people. Six months have passed and you are all so different. Some of you are better and some of you are worse. And I hate that, I hate that I can never tell how a person is going to be with me. I hate(more)