Stories

Baby – T.J. Larkey

I was ordering my baby’s last meal from the drive-thru of a fast food place.
The little one deserved a big delicious bounty of food, death-row style, but I only had enough money in my account for the procedure.
I also had to plan ahead for an extra charge just in case my girlfriend was Rh-negative.
If that was the case then they’d have to administer medication to make sure any future pregnancies weren’t affected.

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Stories

The Slaughterhouse of Dream – S.M.H.

For the Earth is a devil and you will burn with it. 

 

The sun sweats in the sky, ants carrying heat like black stones, gathering burn in the crackling morning.  The air already beginning to heat, the musk of flowers thick, the humid earth yammering like a pollen clogged throat. Patches of spiny plants and yellow petals of flowers,

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Stories

Role of the Victim and/or Survivor – Damien Ark

Thirty-seven degrees, light rain, asphalt clouds, eight-hour conference on trauma at nine in the morning. I don’t need to be here. I lived and wrote the book on this shit already. However, one thing did stick out to me. The speaker said that scientists can now take the blood of an adult and see if they were abused as a child. Abuse can damage someone on the cellular level. Trauma lives in the tissue and cartilage,

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Stories

Grab Ass – Anthony Dragonetti

I was in my early 20s. Maybe even 19 when I started. It was easier once I could legally drink in bars. If you can still be called cute in your mid-20s, it does something to you. Some boys were already seeing their hair thin. Perpetual stubble no matter how often they shaved. Love handles, even.

Not me. Baby faced with a slight bubble butt and shaggy hair.

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