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The Hard Woke Tutelage Of Okey Honkey by Tia Ja’nae

Okey Honkey Magazine & Press, the racially inconsolable literary consciousness for ingenue yuppies of cracker America, passed away Tuesday upholding life, liberty, and the pursuit of censorship in the name of wokeness.  Sources confirmed the publication bit the dust scolding ignorant rednecks and Negroes alike without taking a breath, expiring …

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Dear Monica by Stuart Watson

Dear Monica, I’m writing, even though I don’t think they’ll deliver. The Old Souls Agency, they told me that I could write to you. Once. One phone call, one letter per subterranean. Ha! Makes a guy think about where to send it. The thing is, I don’t recall anyone ever …

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Beach Trip by Brennan Burks

On our family trip to the beach, I stopped in Clanton, Alabama to kill a man. We were starting a new tradition. My wife had spent time along the white sands and turquoise waters of the Emerald Coast as a child. They were her best memories. A lifelong fondness for …

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Eyes Like Hers by Victor De Anda

She’s been dead for three months yet you still catch glimpses of her in the bathroom mirror after a hot shower. The scent of vanilla lingers in the bedroom closet, her clothes untouched. She’s just gone on a business trip and will be back by the weekend. This is the …

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Medah’s Revenge by Gary Thomson

Jeb Trahan slips his seventh card into his hand, fills his spade flush. Heated betting has taken out three cowboys. Now only Tag Donnelly, bully and bushwhacker, faces him. “First, I’ll take his bankroll,” Trahan muses. “Then end his malignant life. For Medah. And all peaceful citizens in the territory.” …

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The Good Hostess by Michael Bracken

Angela Porter stood at the kitchen counter and counted the steak knives a second time. Just as she had the first time she counted, she came up one short. Everything had to be perfect for that evening’s dinner party, and perfection could not be achieved if the number of knives …

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TORN CURTAINS by Olivia Hamilton

It’s a tumble-down house on a small suburban block, corrugated iron roof, weatherboards peeling paint, long grass in the front. Out back, down the cracked driveway, three cars sit on blocks. They’re classics, you told me; you’d restore them one day, make us a mint. But they’ve been sitting there …

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YOU ARE FORGIVEN by Myna Chang

“Forgive and forget” is my life’s guiding policy. That’s why I don’t murder people—I forgive them. Only then can I find blessed forgetfulness. Like last week, when my neighbor took my mail by mistake. I told her she was forgiven, and I meant it. Then there was the clumsy barista …

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