Category: Dramatic


The Bucket List

“Wow.” William’s gaze shifts to the floor. He rubs hard at his brow; his hand noticeably tremors. “So, what does this mean?” William asks.

The doctor crosses his hands and rests them on his desk. “Well, Bill, it means you have a second chance at life. This only happens in a very small percentage of cases.”

“I guess I should feel relieved. It just feels… strange. Not sure what I should do.” A swell of uncertainty rises to the back of William’s mouth.

“It’s been a long road. Take a deep breath, and then let that cross slide off the crutch of your shoulders.

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Paddock Magic

When I was a little girl, from the moment I stepped out of bed, I would be off and running to the neighborhood park. Paddock Park was my daily trip to the moon. Some of my most cherished memories are of Paddock, and I have often dreamed of the day I would pass the memories down to my children.

I was all but a glimpse to my mother as I scurried past her to my treasured Huffy, pink with sapphire trim. Paddock was a straight shot from my house. My pedaling, impatient and frenzied, reflected my anticipation. Paddock could be heard before it could be seen,

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Adolph sat in his leather rocker the morning after his wedding in 1918; his cigar melted a dime sized hole into its arm. Years passed… burns became more frequent. 1921 was the birth and fiery marking of his first-born daughter. 1967 brought the untimely death of his son and a singe of grief. Adolph’s life has branded the rocker indelibly… it’s his favorite chair.

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Marsh Sirens

The water rambled through rills, gathered in swamps hidden by briars that protected its’ secrets.

Boulders forged by ancient volcanoes and touched by indigenous hands rest quietly beneath the muddy bogs.

He transformed brambles and quagmire to grass and pond, only to reveal latent powers.

Many a man were caught by the Marsh-Siren’s song. Until the stones rose up in threes, silencing her call.

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A Manhattan Tide

A spectrum ranging from bizarre to absurd

A pinch of perverse excitement

to a legion of greed with violent undertone

A trifle of coerced romance

leads to suspicions of provoked, but nostalgic liaisons

Epidemic insomnia

under a requiem of painted faces

pleased by feverish adventure for the macabre

garnished with widespread harmony and

plagued by ignorance-bliss

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Everything got better when the butterflies took over.
The economy soared, house prices dropped, the national debt floated away on the breeze.
Exterminating the humans was a sad necessity.
There are some left… in protected habitats. They were put to sleep, stored in castles they never dared occupy.
We sometimes wonder what they’re thinking of.
When they wake up, the experiment will be complete.

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The Battle

He spent years in a sanatorium battling metaphors. Later he rented a room on the beachfront. He bought an aquarium because he was never able to see fish in the ocean, even though it was reportedly full of them. One day the aquarium clouded up. He was no longer able to see his precious firefish. His life became clouded. He returned to the sanatorium.

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Illustration by Anon D’mowlse

A bottle of spirit in one hand, my hair in his other. He dragged me from my roots into our bedroom.
I pleaded. I begged. I cried.
He removed his belt; I shuddered at the sound of its shearing friction. Deliberately, he wrapped the leather around his right hand, the steel buckle left dangling.
My name is Mari. Today is my one year anniversary.




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One Pebble

Illustration by Benjamin Hill

Sakiko hesitates. She stands on the threshold of his World Bank office. She has been here often.

Sakiko waits. He is not here. She feels his presence – perhaps it is the lingering scent of clove cigarettes. Her eyes settle on the Balinese Barong mask. Its expression is less sinister today. The Javanese shadow puppets no longer seem trapped; they are fluid, daring…

Like Sakiko.

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Illustration by Anon D’mowlse

Lionel feels natural remedies are best. He stirs warm milk in the rusty pot; the ginger has steeped for an hour. Each torturous round of treatment is more horrific than the last. He hacks and gags reaching for a cigarette, milk still astir. He plugs the smoke into the gaping orifice of his throat; the cancer had played dirty. Yes, natural remedies are best.

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The Ticker Regatta 0

The Ticker Regatta

Casey hopelessly flounders behind his younger rival who suddenly lifts his oars and stands, letting’er run; they share a reverent gaze as Casey overtakes him.

Casey awakens to a sore chest and his doctor listening to his heart. “She’s sounding strong, Case.”

“And the donor, Doc?”

“College kid. Smart…an athlete, I think.”


Doc reels, startled. “Yeah.”

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The Right Day

Illustration by Anon D’mowlse

“Today the day, Tom?”

“No. Not yet.”


“Yeah, maybe.”

“Geez, Tom! I thought you’d decided. You got the vodka, pills, plastic bag… a hose in case you use the car.”

“Damn it, some days are good, some days are bad. I’ve got to be sure. Trust me,” Tom winks at Tom in the mirror. “You’ll be the first to know.”

Tom winks back.

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Value of a Dollar

Illustration by Anon D’mowlse

My little boy needs diapers. Rent is past due. The phone was shut off, then the water, and now the heat. Winter is coming. If I can’t support my family, can they still call it earning a living?

The clerk jarred me from my doldrums, “Lotto’s huge today; chance your luck?”

He handed me a dollar in change. “No, thank you. Just the diapers.”

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