Adam Spielman

A writer's blog.

  I’m sitting with my back against the truth door. It’s a wooden green door without a handle and the Mexican that sold it to us parted with it easily. The U-Haul truck shakes at sixty and we’re doing sixty-five through eight lanes of traffic. I’m in the back on black rubber with the green …

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 The Limbo kickstarter raised just over $31,000, a huge success.  Thank you to everyone who either put in five bucks or a hundred bucks or even just helped us out with a facebook share.  Because of your interest and your votes of confidence there will soon be a short film based on my Jim stories …

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“I don’t dream anymore.” “Nobody dreams anymore.” “Is it still possible to dream? In this place?” “Well, anything is possible. But no, not really.” “I miss it.” “You miss it?” “Dreams. Dreaming.” “They’re just dreams.” “You don’t miss dreams?” “No.” “When I was a kid I dreamed about the world series and hitting a homerun. …

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Shank rattled down the sidewalk. In some distant and huddled corner of consciousness he remembered what the inside of the city felt like, what it looked like. He looked at himself from that place: the jitter of his eyes, the disheveled clothes, the wild hair, the tweak in his walk. He was repulsive. Dangerous. He …

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“So. Jim. Why do you want to become an angel?” “I think I’m pretty good with people,” Jim said. This was his first job interview in a few hundred years and he was a little rusty. The executive sitting across from him was a serious woman with glasses and thin lips. She looked at him …

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This is Christopher Hitchens, reporting dead from the godless soup of eternity. Approximately ten hours ago – ten hours relative to what remains unclear – the atomic ejaculate of a Tennessee man cracked the Christian firmaments and the myriad zealots of Christ are swarming. The nest has been stirred, comrades and friends, and they’ve taken …

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It was my intention to keep this blog strictly fiction, every inch of content nothing but stories.  But the more I look into this world of blogs the more it seems like kind of a silly and unrealistic goal.  I think it’s alright if this one is mostly stories. First, I want to thank everybody that’s been …

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Jim stood and stretched. The house was gone and the Paradise around them was flat and gray. Above them the mushroom cloud looked like an inverse tornado. He looked at his penis. “How many megatons do you think that was?” Jim said. Cherry lay on her back, nearly comatose. “A lot,” she said. Her breasts …

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In Paradise, the snooze button gave you six minutes.  Jim hit his again.  He’d lost count.  Maybe two hundred hits, maybe a thousand. Outside his window the sun was shining and the birds were chirping.  Every goddamn day with the sun and the birds and the breeze.  He buried his head in the pillow. His …

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Disenfranchised Pluffkin had been nipping purses and jacking wallets since he was nine years old.  As he often introduced himself, he was born to nothing, raised by the low, and he only drank from the top shelf.  Aside from purses and wallets he was certified master of every sort of con.  He could deal himself …

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