glimpses shared by our authors
  • "And despite hardly knowing you," Victoria's voice was barely a whisper, and a tone of shame echoed with each word, "I thought about you every night. Michael, I was so ...
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  • She is golden in my minds eye. She is an angel, a godsend. I was dying inside my self built prison, sweltering inside my glass enclosure. She is a breeze. ...
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  • I am thirteen, and awkward, as most thirteen-year-olds are. I have zits on my face, and am pudgy at best. I think that I am somehow horribly disfigured, and will ...
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  • When he awoke, a tangible snow fell around him, cold and slow, yet he was not drenched. Lifting himself up, he examined the light drizzle on his charcoal-coloured sweater and ...
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  • Stopping to smell flowers and stare at insects and lose myself in plants is something to which nearly all individuals and nearly no collectives can relate. There are activities that ...
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  • 07/01/10 - My Brain: I shouldn't have taken two weeks off of writing here every day. I've decided to start for real, writing the story of two scarcely-believable characters and ...
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  • "Very nicely done Michael, especially that one-liner! What was it again? 'No mom, think about what you're doing?' Oh, it was something like that," he chortled. Michael smiled tiredly. "Shut ...
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  • What if this all means nothing? If life really has no meaning and when we die there is nothing. All of my most precious and cherished memories are forever forgotten. ...
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  • I like to think of myself as a silent but mindful champion of the disenfranchised -- the genetically fat, the ugly nosed, the stupid -- they all reap the benefits ...
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  • I don't want to be anyone. I'm done with that. This is my story. My name is Regan, and I am that girl you saw sitting on the side of ...
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