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Unhappy Happiness

…is value in pain

Though most disagree.

Many try to avoid it

Thinking they will be free.

But the pain doesn't disappear

Its only stuffed, drugged, or denied.

And over time the pain will erode us.

Failed attempts to escape give way to its unrelenting tide.

So what should we do with pain,

When it grips us in its claws?

When it crushes and pushes and smothers and gnaws?

In labor, it's a queue to impending birth.

A woman's body is working

To bring a human to earth.

The key in childbirth

Is letting pain have its way.

But even…

By Angela Jones

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The Abyss

…slate-like under my bare feet; cold, slick, impenetrable. The air is stale and clammy. My hands blindly lunge into obscurity; nothing within grasp, only the vacuum of the dark barren. The cold emanates from within my soul and spreads through the fibers of my nerves, embracing every inch of my body. I call out; my voice falling flat, no walls to echo my shout. I shiver, not knowing if this is from the chilling dankness or my own fear and fall to the ground.

Sobbing, I crawl through the misty darkness for hours. The floor is slick from the dewy…

By Tracey Koehler

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The Provincial

…flinched as I heard a thud, followed by mad fluttering. I cautiously approached the kitchen window, and peered through the murkiness outdoors. A massive black bird lay on the ground, flapping his wings, but unable to right himself. The poor thing must have lost his bearings in this weather and flew into the the large picture window. His fluttering became erratic, then slowed, and finally stopped.

The weather outside was dank and the ground covered in thick fog; not a day to spend outdoors by any means. It was, however, perfect for an evening inside with a good book and…

By Tracey Koehler

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…remember lyin’ upon my momma’s bed lookin’ to the shards of sunlight slippin’ through the cracks of the wall’s boards; I came out upon that bed that was standin’ within a room that Momma called “the shed.” Well, she called it that because it stuck out from the side of the shack that we were livin’ within. Anyway, that shack stood upon the land of my daddy’s owner. Well, Momma saw him more as a boss than an owner, and I suppose that she had to see him that way because she hated him. Now, I say that because this…

By Christopher DelMonaco

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Pathologically Disconnected, or, Why I Write Novels

…handed my college buddy a small magazine clipping with a photograph of some place with trees and water. I’d just had a very nice visit there, in fact. Then I ripped out the page I was looking at and cut the place out.

“What is it?”

I was excited to explain the birthday gift. “It’s a. . .it’s a ‘place-to-be’. You look at it and you can picture yourself in the picture, anywhere in the picture you want. . .Like I did. When I looked at it; it was a really cool picture that…

By Gabriella L Garlock

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