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Cutter

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The first cut was never the deepest.  No matter what the song said.

The fist cuts were shallow.

Exploratory.

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A Bad Joke (1)

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The twilight was queer indeed; a blood red moon that seemed as if to bleed into the sky, leaving it congealed in the dusk. For a vampire hunter, this was expected. Whenever the sky was a blood-red, it meant trouble.

Up the mountain he went, his face scarred and cracked, a peculiar saw-like weapon on his back. Wolves howled somewhere in the distance. A fine welcome this is, thought the hunter.

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Sporting Gestures

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Wimbledon has begun and our house is full of excitement. The tennis season always evokes tremendous enthusiasm from the LOH(Lady of the House). She even sacrifices her "Bold and Beautiful" TV time to "Prime Sports" and literally leaves Brooke holding her baby. Not that she is a great tennis lover, but she is an ardent fan of Ms Maria Sharapova. She watches every match that Ms Sharapova plays and her prayers for Ms Sharapova's victory become loud and clear.

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The Old Neighborhood

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Upon my discharge from the service in 1969, I went directly to Ohio University and eventually returned to New York City to live and work in Manhattan.  My old neighborhood, Lefrak City just became a fading afterthought.

As time went by, I would pass Lefrak City when traveling on the Long Island Expressway. Like most Manhattanites, I considered all of Queens “fly over country.” You know, as most obnoxious bi-costal elites consider the midwestern United States.

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These Winds are called Snow-Eaters

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Seeking shelter from the storm, we made our first mistake. We left the Jeep right where Sam had spun out in the slushy mud making his three-point turn and headed on foot for Diego Pass. The Upper Larch Mountain Road is closed in autumn every year. Sam bragged he knew Oregon mountain pass conditions better than me. That’s why he chose that route as our getaway.  But I didn’t think Diego Pass was where Sam persuaded me it was going to be.

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Up There Purgatory and Down There

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Harry Dunn sat with his wife, Gina, at their kitchen table.  “Gina, I spent the last week casing the bank, and I got it all figured out.  It’s a sure thing.”

“Harry, darling, I wish you’d get out of the business. Get a real job, one that won’t land you in Jail or worse.”

“Gina, I’m fifty. I admit I wasted my life trying to make a quick, easy buck and failed. Gina, what is a fifty-year-old man like me going to do? I don’t have an education. I don’t know nothing. All I can do is steal.”

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Simplicity

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The days grew longer as the sun rose ever higher in the sky. Its rays pierced the morning ground fog that accumulated in low areas, cleared, and warmed the air that was now redolent with scents of flowers.   Pastels of soft green, pink, mauve, and yellow made the hills around them glow as flowers shimmered in the gentle mountain breezes.  The long cold winter nights were long forgotten.  When Justin, Jake, and Elan stopped to rest at the end of each day, they slept under the stars and watched the moon go through its phases. 

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The Broken Heart

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It was their love of John Donne that had brought them together, Larry recalled. While they had been attending the same seminar group on Renaissance Poetry, he had secretly admired her, with her long dark hair and stunning good looks. Yes, too good for someone like him, he had thought. Unattainable, like a goddess!

But then a miracle happened.

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The Church Lady

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Hannah knew she was different from the other children around her age. While they all enjoyed playing in the park together or going to birthday parties, Hannah preferred to stay to herself and play with her dolls. Sometimes she would make up imaginary friends.

She didn't have any older siblings, only a baby brother named ‘Jonah', who was way too small for her to have  a playmate . Hannah’s parents were a little bit concerned about her behavior, however, they were hoping as she got older she would eventually grow out of it.

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The Clarinet Conspiracy

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Larry felt like a four-year-old trying to read a book. He knew the symbols had been carefully inscribed on the page by a great practitioner, but they might have been sneezed in ink for all he could tell.

He had begun to regret joining his adult music class. Even if he could figure out what the notes meant, how could anybody ever expect to work a contraption like this clarinet?

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