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stephentotheplate

Where poetry and stories collide.

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stories

Tidbits (poem)

What do I do, With the information about a person, I no longer know? Now useless bits of information, Concerning a person, Concerning a world, I am no longer privy to. No longer included in. Unless facts, a drift in... Continue Reading →

Crush (prose)

She let herself enjoy the feeling. The feeling of the unknown. The maybe, the possibly, the could be. The thought of the new, so different, so- New. She enjoyed it. The getting to know him, the spending of time together.... Continue Reading →

Feelings (Microfiction)

This imagine invokes feelings. What exactly I feel, I'm not sure. I just know I like the opaqueness of the sky. The foggy-mistiness of the foreground. This imagine invokes feelings. Not quite sure what they are but, I like them.... Continue Reading →

Near Misses (Microfiction)

She zoned out again. She could just barely catch his face this time. Broad shoulders, a little husky, fresh haircut, nice clothes but not pretentious. She could just make out the sent of his cologne. She swore she knew the... Continue Reading →

Pen to Paper (Microfiction)

She sat at her father's desk and stared at the keyboard. It had been so long. So long since she put her thoughts out, into the world. So long since she's shared her pain and her fears. So she wrote.... Continue Reading →

Delays…(microfiction)

She'd listened patiently as he detailed his plans for the future. Plans that talked of building but building that would have to put off for the time being. He said they had to be practical. While marriage was the goal... Continue Reading →

Chapter 5: While He Slept 

Chapter Five of Sleeper Cell Angela waited by the bus stop for Justin to turn the corner before following him. The email she'd received from Dr. Loveitt had included a photo of Jason and some  information about him. He'd instructed... Continue Reading →

Intimacy (prose)

Picture this. Pine wood floors hold up wooden furniture, softened with fluffy pillows. The morning's coffee cools in a mug on the window sill. Seated on the couch, I read the morning paper. Reading glasses on so I can actually... Continue Reading →

The Way Back Home (A Story)

She slowly put the rest of her clothes into the antique Chester drawer. Pausing over the last winter blue sweater. When she left, four months ago she was wearing this same sweater. Guilt still plagued her over her departure. The... Continue Reading →

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