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Have a read of last contributions to the open stories listed below. If you are interested in making a contribution for one of the stories simply click the "contribute" link under the last contribution below.

My World

I run my fingers through my thick, red hair. The sun gleams off of every springy tentacle-like piece. I sigh and collapse onto the grassless mound of dirt.
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the words of love

My head is spinning. I clutch it, and kneel in pain on the floor. My stomach also begans turning and squirming. I feel sick and hot. My vision goes black. Sarah watches, her cheeks damp with tears, a slow trickle of blood escaping her mouth. My eyes are now melting in a puddle of black, corrosive goo on the floor. Sarah begins to cry, and the trickle of blood becomes stronger, until she begins to choke. She's choking on the floor, and begins hacking. She's not choking, but she sure is coughing. Me, I'm just a puddle of stinky corrosive goo sizzling through the floor.
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Bad Day

I was having one of those days; the kind of day that everything seemed to be working against me. It started straight out of bed; I rolled over, only to find that I had run out of bed and hit the floor...hard. That was rough but what happened next was even worse. The alarm for the appointment that I was scheduled to be at half an hour ago never went off, the kids used all the hot water just before they headed off to school, I am out of coffee, and little did I know that twenty minutes and a Stewarts hot coffee in my lap later I would get pulled over by an officer that seemed to be having a day similar to mine. As soon I as I think that things couldn't possible get any worse; things got worse...
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draft1

What does it mean to be born in a country torn racially, economically and idealogically, such as the U.S.? So many different paths to divide us, how can any hope to unite such a fragmented, vague and listless people?
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