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An October Breeze

There was a grave chill in the air. It ran down Bonnie’s dress wrapping itself around everyone of the little, invisible blonde hairs that covered her body. It was easy to forget that the human body was covered, or supposed to be, with little fine hairs to provide sensory context and feels. It didn’t help that women especially were trained to not have body hair, causing most of them to suppress the fact all together. As Bonnie made her way through the graveyard toward the church, there was no way should could forget about her body hairs as they all stood at attention brushing against her clothing. If she hadn’t been witnessing the events her eyes were locked onto, she wouldn’t believe it was happening.

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Dr. Magpie

Dr. Daniel Stewart left his home on the morning of February 2nd and headed to work. He wasn’t going in to see patients, just had to pick up a few files from his office and check in with the part-time bookkeeper, part-time receptionist, Ana. She had been doing an incredible job, he was hoping she would change her mind about doing only part-time work and take on a full time position as office manager. She seem reluctant every time he mentioned it. He had a feeling there was something she wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t push it. As long as she kept doing the caliber of work she was doing he could deal. Dr. Daniel was in and out of the office in an hour and forty-five. He was right on schedule for his next stop. Running into the watch shop on Main Street, Dr. Daniel noticed a beautiful woman admiring a rather stunning necklace in the window. The woman blushed as he nodded his head at her and entered the store. He quickly picked out a name brand watch – purchased three of them – and the necklace the woman had been eyeing as he arrived. In his mind it was always good to keep a nice piece of jewelry on hand.

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Letters of Longing

Over the years, I’ve proven myself to be a bit of an unofficial handwriting expert-hobbyist. It’s somewhat of a party trick. Tell your subject to write the following poem, a poem of my own invention, “The goblin quickly erupts picking up his zax, after the jerk waiter served him decaf coffee.” It’s a little lengthy, but people are usually distracted by its corkiness than to tear it apart. Most people go up in arms that “zax” is a made up word. It’s not. It’s a noun. Look up the definition if you don’t believe me. The crazy thing is through this party trick of mine, I’ve accumulated dozens of writing samples that look nothing like my own. With some additional information I’ve been able to open a store credit card here or there, made a withdrawal or two from bank accounts, but up until recently I hadn’t had enough samples to put into motion my greatest plan.

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Keeping In Touch

He watched as the top of her head bobbed up and down with the movement of her hips and arm. The top of her lower back rising up more and more as her head pushed further down into her bed. She didn’t masturbate every morning, just like he didn’t usually have jobs us this way. When he did, he liked to stop by. She how looked, if she still had some of the same morning habits or if those had changed over the course of time as well. Her hair color had changed. It was darker now, but so was the weather. It was colder, in color and temperature. In the summer her hair was lighter and warmer, like the sun and the sand at the beach.

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A Night in River Ridge

The green grass so perfectly in disarray it looked as though someone had positioned each blade by hand. Throughout the healthy grass were long pieces of pale yellow dead grass uprooted from the last mowing. Occasionally there was the head of a dandelion long since blown. Two feet, a pair of them, were laying in the grass. The soles of them facing upward and slightly out. Small patches of flesh were visible. The right index toe, not the tip, but the shaft, the part that never touched the floor; the inside of the left pinky toe; the inside sole of left foot, the arch of this foot was higher than that of the right; and the right ankle bone, barely visible in the picture due to the angle, but if you studied the photo you would see the pale white skin glowing like the silver lining of clouds in the sky. The rest of the feet were a dried, sticky red.

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Hilda Looks for a House

Hilda felt drawn to the tricks of the house’s coloring. She would have felt generally better and more drawn if the lights were on, or if she knew the realtor was already here. Hilda ran her eyes down the block once more, there was one car somewhat close to them, but it was parked on the far side of the bend in the road. Seemingly the car belong to a house further down the block, past the clusters of red and orange fallen leaves.