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Ghosts and Spirits

Mr. Ghost

In the spring of 1953, when I was nine years old I saw my brother die. I’ll remember that day for the rest of my life. The memory has never left me and it never will. Part of it is the trauma, the slow, insidious realization that he was gone, that crept into my life afterward. But there is more to it that I don’t talk about. I’ve held onto it for years, and I don’t want to hold onto it any longer.

Whistling

When people whistle, it kind of irritates me. Not like Axl Rose from “Patience” whistles, but just does so to pass the time. When people whistle or hum to themselves it’s always just kind of grated on me, but only when it’s been tuneless. When there’s a tune to it, a melody, it doesn’t get on my nerves, it just makes me… unsettled.

Witness

I am currently sitting in front of my computer, scared witless. Any moment now I am going to be killed. Today a friend of mine told me a story. His aunt had taken care of him since he was a small boy, and she told him last night about how …

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The Roots of Wewoka Cemetery

After a short time of exploring the Oklahoma territory where they were forced to go, a group of Native Americans stumbled upon a mysterious plant while hunting. This plant looked like a gnarled tree root, with so many twists and turns within its seemingly fragile length that one could barely …

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Miracle Girl

“When is Miracle Girl coming?” I asked and got a stony look of disapproval from my uncle in return. If he read comic books, he’d appreciate my nickname for an immortal elementary schooler. Grandpa laid his good, gray eye on me. The filmy, unseeing one wandered off, like the old …

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I Drive for Cerber

My name is Jim. I’ve been in and out of construction contracts for the last seventeen years. Between those contracts, I do what I can to make a few extra bucks, since you never really know when the next contract will show up and unemployment pays you just enough to …

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The Baptism

There’s a small village out in Alabama called Saint’s Glen.  You won’t find it on any map, at least not since 1965. But you can still find the remnants of the town.  If you follow the river southwest of Thomasville, you’ll find it, somewhere in the woods between Jackson and …

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The Valentine House

“Damn, Valentine shit already?” I asked my friend Gabriel as we were walking inside a Wal-Mart post Christmas. “Yeah, bro, and it’s still December. It’s like they’re completely ignoring the months in between the other months that have major holidays.” “True, true, annoys the shit out of me though, you …

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Dandelions

The first time I saw Bret, I was nineteen.  I’d found a job working security at Dave’s Storage Unit.  My duties included keeping vagrants and thieves from disturbing the 40 rental units that were laid out in five neat rows in the middle of downtown Atlanta and helping customers with …

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All My Friends Are Dead

Part 1 All my friends are dead. Don’t take that the wrong way though. I can’t say I knew any of them when they were still alive. Well, at least most of them anyway. I guess I’m what you could call a psychic. I’ve never liked that word though. I …

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The Most Terrifying 911 Call I’ve Ever Received

“911. What’s your emergency?” I said as I answered the phone. “There’s a bat in my house.” A loud scream came over the speaker. “Send someone to come and get it.” “Alright ma’am, I will send animal control over as soon as possible.” The caller thanked me and said she …

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I Hope I Never Dream Again

Dreams are supposed to be a magical place, a place where we can escape from our everyday lives, where our imagination can run free. I have often heard my friends complain that they don’t dream enough, or that their dreams are too dull, but not me. Ever since I was …

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The Blue Eyed Painting

“So… what are we doing here?” “We’re uh… appreciating art.” “How do you appreciate art?” “I think you just stand there and look at it.” “That’s it?” “Yeah, pretty much.” “Danny we’re staring at a nine foot painting of a triangle. No offense, but even your hipster girlfriend knew this …

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Run Across the Desert

Run Across the Desert

A man stands in the desert. His skin is big bright white. Brighter than normal, a sharp sort of glowing white like lit up cellophane. This is the past to his present and he is not human. Across many sand dunes, a line of cammels walks slowly towards the sun. …

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garbage strike

Garbage Strike

Fwd: Fwd: Dangerous Cover-up T, Think this one bears serious inspection. As usual, recommend we keep the specifics encrypted until we can verify and devise a best course of action. Don’t want to start a panic. – N. ———— Dear ‘N’, Thank you for getting back to me. You have …

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