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I stole a brick from my neighbor’s house. With ease he had me convicted of stealing the whole thing, all three stories and the land it gouged, and rightly. We understand there is no difference. Read the rest of this entry »

We bought the farm, not to grow anything, but because it came with so much food. The farmer had died without a will and let it go for taxes, complete with furniture and cars, and in the barn some big machines we siphoned of their gas to joyride down the country lanes. Read the rest of this entry »

He shows his hands as bidden. Across each palm, and flecking the edges also of his bare soles, doily patterns of lesion and wart, the arsenic array. Read the rest of this entry »

Talk about irony, four of us will get off because five of us are guilty. The teller knows us to look at us, or thinks she does, knows all five of us. She could point to anyone and be correct but the situation blinds her. Read the rest of this entry »

His job in life, accomplished as a child with the asking of a single question, was to reconcile a mother with her daughter. Do you want to die angry at her? he had asked, oblivious to the consequences. Read the rest of this entry »

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299-WORD NOVELS

Character, conflict, emotional impact. And sentences! Everything you want in a novel, without one extra syllable.

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The pen name David B Dale honors my parents Beatrice and Dale. David+B+Dale = davidbdale

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