Chapin City Blues

Writing is writing whether done for duty, profit, or fun.

“I’ve made you get the pass list for a reason,” I tell him. “The balls in your court. It’s up to you how you play it.” The whole time I’m thinking how the fuck I got myself into this mess…again. Didn’t I learn never to take anyone under my wing? Of course, I’m half telling …

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In the quiet of the morning, the ticking clock will resonate through the halls. The parts of him that were human have shrugged off his shoulders. They were quilted into a coat, too loose for his lack of. The sun rises over the roof tops. The birds begin to chirp. The wind picks up. The …

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After all, things could always get worse. People can mistake me for a friend. It’s a dreaded term, especially when it’s bestowed upon me so abruptly. I dont’ know where it came from, but it landed late in the afternoon Friday – haunting me ever since. “Hello, friend.” I’m probably – I know – I’m over …

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