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Best Stories on the Web
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Here, on we publish only the highest quality stories from great writers around the world. To have work published on is testament to the finest writing ability. Once published, we share your success with others and give good writing, great publicity. The site receives in excess of 300,000 page views per month and is the number one site on search engines for various genres.

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The Antique Dealer

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Adam Carr, a fifty-year-old antique dealer stood in the middle of his emporium and watched shoppers as they examined his unusual antiques. Collectors from all over the world came to buy his statues, artwork, jewelry, books, and hundreds more antiques that no other antique dealer could offer. Sir Eric Morgan, holding a gold necklace and a dagger, worked his way through the crowd to Adam. “Adam, my good man, my catalog shows this necklace to be one worn by Nefertiti of Ancient Egypt, circa 3600 BC,” he said and showed Adam the picture in the catalog. “An amazing resemblance, wouldn’t you say, old chap? Was it made for you? If so, shouldn’t you label it a replica?”


The Dark Shadow

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To the sound of the air brakes something catches my eye.

“Mike, I see something,” I whisper.


I point to the second floor. “Up there in the window.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I saw something.”

Mike turns the steering wheel and parks the fire truck on the edge of the road. He then looks up at the second floor window. “There’s too much smoke.”



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Back in 1984, Maggie was looking for some alternative world to study for her Journalism Bachelorette thesis. One option she considered was exploring her boyfriend Michaels’ impressions of driving a New York City taxi.  But Michael suggested exploring the Garment District cafeterias on Seventh Avenue. He had overheard the loud conversations of old Jewish men. They wove interesting tales of New York City in the 1960’s.


Night Mares

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George Downs stood bent slightly forward in front of an officer. “You’re supposed to stand at attention, soldier, not tilted forward.”

“I have arthritis, sir, and it prevents me from standing up straight.”

“Likely excuse.”

“Sir, I’m eighty one years old. Why am I still in the Army?”



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McCready tensed, crouching low beside a large hedge and peering ahead through the fog and the rain that was compressing Forrester Park like a wet blanket.The city was hiding, it had been raining steadily since noon and no one was moving.

In the pale glow of the luminaires lighting the walking path, he saw a brief glimpse of a shadowy figure sliding through the fog, gone as quickly as it had appeared.

McCready moved ahead, staying in the shadows and parallelling the path.He knew it was Matisse, he could feel it in every fiber of his being.


Six Years Ago

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He put the Celtic music on,sat out on his small apartment deck in a plastic Adirondack chair and rewound the tapes in his mind.

Scenes from six years ago, He could make them as focused or as hazy as he wished, It was a curse.

They had bought a house, her daughter (his step daughter) was achieving high marks in high school and headed off to college. When he looked at his wife under the surface appeared to be her empty nest syndrome kicking in.


Five Minutes

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Imagine sitting here in a wooden chair with Chinese soft somethings under your ass, leaning on a green laminated particle board twice processed table. You’ve been here for a while. You’re miserable because you hate your job. You wait for the accented drawl of the guest social media marketing specialist from Tuscaloosa to end like a root canal. You wait for his mouth to seal like two slices on a grilled cheese sandwich.


Doris Drive 2

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James slowly stood up, bewildered, and looked around at the queer landscape. This certainly felt like a dream. Thinking about it being a dream made James change his mind though. He knew it was real, he could feel it was real, no matter how bizarre. He started walking towards the house trying not to pay attention to the drones on either side of him when one of the spooky figures stepped out of the line, looked at James, and suddenly formed a recognizable face.

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