Happily Ever After | A Short Story

… But for those first several minutes he said nothing. Patrick held her, and she could feel the iron bars that had been keeping her shoulders rigid give a little. The static of her mind quieted some, and she leaned against him. Allowing Patrick to lend her some of his strength, which gave her peace, if only temporarily.

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Alone In The Club | Fiction

That night, John possessed all the charisma of a sleepy clam. Standing quietly against a wall in the busy club he filtered fed off the air like a mollusk—breathing in oxygen and exhaling waste product that mixed with the heavy air of the large, strobe light lit room. Though he swayed with the music, John still managed to keep his feet fixed to the floor as he looked into the crowd at every guy dancing with a/their/some girl.

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3 Tips for getting published

Being a good writer will usually you get you published—unless you're J.K. Rowling, who was turned down by 12 publishers before being picked up only because one publisher’s 8-year-old child liked her book. But that’s neither here nor there. Not writing crap will get you a long way.

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Open Road | Creative Writing

Maybe I should've gotten that Redbull. I debated the moot point for a moment. What I correctly guessed as the last twenty-four hour convenience store on my trip down the I-95 was thirty minutes behind me. I had missed my opportunity to get a caffeine pick-me-up, but my mind continued to wrestle with the past. I slipped deeper into drowsiness.

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The Genesis | Creative Writing

My writing career began with a smile and a lot of tears when Mr. Yeni collected a journal assignment meant to improve the class’ writing. We were to write about the exciting events taking place in our nine-year old lives for that week – a minimum of four pages worth of kiddie insights.

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Dark Places | Fiction

It was robbing season where I worked. Although I didn't know why, it seemed to me an observable fact that the warmth of summer somehow thawed the laziness in low-level criminals. Cops patrolled more often, ramdom beatings became more frequent, and stick-up men looked for anything that shined with a focus that would be inspiring if it was directed at a book.

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Angels | Fiction

The newborn looked like a mutant raisin. That was all Kathy could think about as she stared her niece in the face. The pale thing lay on her sister-in-law’s chest and looked back at Kathy with black dots that couldn’t see more than a foot away. She was wrinkled, with facial features that Kathy couldn’t describe other than to say that they were there. Her nose was there; her ears were there; her mouth was there. They were all there, but they were as shapeless as a dream.

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There Is Love (Park Min Soo) | Eating Kimchi and Nodding Politely

During my first year, while at my first job here in Korea, my first students of the day noticed a second-hand Korean language book on my desk. They looked through it without my permission while I was on my designated five minute break - relieving myself, and cursing at bill collectors in the bathroom.

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Male Bonding | Eating Kimchi and Nodding Politely

I wasn't sure what I was seeing at the time, but after my first few months in South Korea a reality about life here made itself clear: Koreans like to drink. Even more, many like to get drunk. Like any and all observations based solely on one's own experience, it's biased, and I accept the fact that I may be totally wrong in this generalization. But I don't think so.

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Dead Labor | Fiction

I leaned against a display of computer towers and computer printed price tags, while on my fifth day in a row at that place that I didn’t want to be in. A bank was holding me hostage. If I left they would kill me; they would starve me; they would let disease consume me; they would have me freeze under a bridge; they would turn me into food for vultures with bad habits.

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My Brother's Eulogy | Eating Kimchi and Nodding Politely

A few years ago, about ten, Josely and I were wasting an hour playing video games. This happened more often then I liked, but I had a lot of free time. At twenty one I had quit college and I quit my job. While pursuing a doomed dream I decided to read some books, write a little, and think a lot about the world I lived in. In those months me and my brother had been spending a lot of time together and I was constantly asking him questions about his life.

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Something Missing | Fiction

Took the subway this Thursday instead of driving. Wanted to avoid the traffic and nasty weather outside (the day’s snowstorm would’ve blinded me on the road). Got there, and I saw this obnoxiously loud group on my uptown ride on the E train. They got on at Continental Avenue, and were talking in that language/code that I could never decipher.

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