When I’m #64

Hello, I’m Paul, and I’ve died 62 times. But don’t worry. This isn’t going to be one of those sad stories about dying. That’s not my story, at least.

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Feature image is AI-generated by Wombo Dream.

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Would you like another?

Lora Gray May 4, 2022

On This, Our Last Night at Station Six

Original poetry by Lora Gray.

Selah Janel April 20, 2021

Give and Take

It’s easy to forget the reasons for traditions, and unfortunately, just as easy to suffer the consequences.

mAGGIE ( A NICKNAME) September 25, 2021

Spore

“Federico” is a unique plant with a strange appetite.

Mark Silcox July 20, 2021

Escalation

Two women – one old, one young – seated at a table inside a small room, playing a game. Overhead a black drone equipped with two cameras buzzes quietly. The women talk to each other in a friendly way and touch the game pieces tentatively, as though they are still learning the rules. The older one is dressed in all-black; the younger wears white. On each of their necks is a small red mark – perhaps an insect bite, or a wound that’s halfway to healing.

Outside the room the rest of the world watches, seized by terror but unable to look away.

Christina Ladd October 15, 2021

Mona Luna

If you never met her, you’d think she was a real nice lady, yeah. Good with kids, never kicked no dog. Never sang a hymn out of tune. On Tuesdays and Thursdays she works down at the shelter, handing out socks and toothbrushes.

I go barefoot in my boots rather than take a single thing from Mona Luna.

Heinrich von Wolfcastle October 20, 2020

The Contritionist

The spirit of this psychologist’s trade was never really about talk therapy; it was about helping his patients find contrition for their sins—to help them feel remorse for what they’ve done. And if they can’t find it for themselves, then he will do whatever it takes to make sure they feel it.

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